


Fourth Life By Night

by Revans_Mask



Series: Ashara Shepard [5]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angry Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-01-01 21:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revans_Mask/pseuds/Revans_Mask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A companion to the Ashara Shepard: The Fourth Life series. (Though most of the stories stand alone) It covers events that didn't fit into the main plot, that I still wanted to show.  Some are romantic, some are smutty, and some are just quiet moments in-between the action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Promise of a New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So, these stories are canonical within the larger 4th Life universe, but for one reason or another didn't incorporate naturally into the flow of the main story. This first one is set the day before Chapter 1 of Where They Travelled.

“So, asari really don’t have weddings?”

Liara smiles indulgently at Ashley.  The newly promoted captain is looking quite striking in her dress blues, and Liara eagerly anticipates seeing Shepard in hers.  They make her look particularly dashing, but it has been some time since Ashara has had occasion to don them.  Normally of course, Liara would have watched Shepard as she dressed, but apparently, there is a old human custom that it is poor luck for the couple being married to see each other on their wedding day before the ceremony.  As a result, she had, for the first time in months, spent the night back in her own cabin and she has to admit that it has built her anticipation for what will come next.

“Not as you would think of them.  Because we can share thoughts with our partners, for my people, it is the certain knowledge that both people wish to spend their lives together that makes them bondmates.  This commitment can then be registered for legal purposes, but that is a mere formality.”

Ashley is incredulous.  “But no ceremony?  No party?  No relatives getting drunk and making fools of themselves?”

Liara laughs.  “Captain Williams, I would never have guessed that you were such a romantic.”

“Hey,” she insists, “Just because I can snipe down a charging krogan with one shot doesn’t mean I can’t be a girl sometimes.”

“Fair enough.  To answer your question, we did once have communal ceremonies marking the establishment of a committed bonding pair, but they fell into disuse after we began to have regular contact with aliens.  We found it simpler to adapt ourselves to the customs of those we fell in love with.”

“But what about when two asari get bonded?  Like Benezia and Aethyta?”

Liara sighs regretfully.  “Such unions are no longer seen as desirable.  They still take place, but because of the stigma against them, a public celebration is considered inappropriate.”

“I’m sorry.”  Ashley shakes her head, clearly annoyed at herself for bringing the subject up.  “I know you got a hard time about that as a kid.”

“Do not worry.”  She grins.  “Of late, I am far better known for my bondmate than for my heritage.”

Ashley smiles back.  “I think these days we’re all better known for our association with Shepard than our families, which in my case…”

She’s interrupted by the buzzing of her omni-tool, and Garrus’ voice breaks into the conversation.  “Get a move on it, Captain.  It’s time.”

 

The cargo hold of the _Normandy_ isn’t exactly the kind of fantasy wedding location most people would dream of.  The crew have certainly done their level best to prepare the room for the ceremony.  In spite of their busy schedule of relief work and the shortages that still plague the galaxy a year after the Reaper War ended, they’ve managed to scrounge up some decorations.  Flowers and streamers festoon the hold, and there’s even a carpet leading up to the make-shift alter they’ve erected.  None the less, it’s still a cargo hold, with crates of supplies moved off to the side of the room and two Kodiak shuttles serving as a backdrop for the happy occasion.

Ashara Shepard wouldn’t have it any other way.  This place has been her home, and the people here are the only family she has left, her blood relatives having died long ago on Mindoir.  There are certainly a few more that she wishes could be here with her and Liara today.  Miranda, who brought her back from the brink of death twice, is elsewhere on Alliance business.  Wrex is still overseeing the reconstruction of Tuchanka.  Aethyta, Liara’s only surviving parent, though alive, has been annoyingly elusive.

Still, those that matter most to Shepard are here, her closest friends: Garrus, Tali, Ashley, and of course her bride-to-be, Liara T’Soni.  The Spectre had wanted to do this before the crew start to go their separate ways.  Tomorrow, she and Liara are going to move into their home on Thessia, and with many of the others planning to leave after that, she’s glad to have this final moment with all of them together.

Behind her, Tali seems to have finally gotten everything set up.  The quarian had been both surprised and thrilled when Shepard asked her to officiate at the wedding.  “Hey, you’re an Admiral of the Quarian Flotilla,” Ashara had reminded her, ”Even if you’re currently detailed to the _Normandy_.”  With Garrus serving as her Best Man and Ashley as Liara’s Maid of Honor, everything has worked out nicely.  She’s glad her bondmate and her successor as captain of the _Normandy_ have become so much closer.  Back on the SR-1, Ash had been suspicious of Liara, but that’s long in the past.

Garrus informs Ashley that they’re ready to begin and as the elevator hums into action and the wedding processional starts to play over the loudspeakers, Shepard fixes her eyes on the door, eager for a glimpse of her bride.  Of course, they’re both brides, but they decided to arrange matters this way in accordance with asari custom.

 Lacking a traditional conception of male and female due to their unique biology, they instead assign titles on the basis of roles.  A mother and father for instance are the names given to the asari who birthed the child and the one who’s genetic code was mapped.  Since asari bonded to aliens generally bore the children, they considered it appropriate for them to take on the female role.  “Besides,” Shepard thinks to herself, “I probably look a lot more butch in my dress uniform than Liara… will… in…”

The thought trails off mid-sentence as the lift doors open and she gets her first look at Liara in her wedding dress.  To Shepard, the asari looks absolutely beautiful in pretty much anything and especially nothing at all, but right now, she’s leaving her stunned.  Her bondmate has chosen a gown of white and blue, relatively simple, but elegant, and its pattern suggests the jumpsuit she was wearing the day that they first met on Therum.  Of course, that outfit didn’t have a cut that so tantalizingly displayed the tops of Liara’s breasts, nor did it’s thicker fabric cling as appealingly to her soft curves.

Every eye in the room goes to the asari, but Shepard can’t tear hers away, enraptured even as the service starts. “Dearly beloved,” Tali begins, following the human form, but though she’s doing a perfectly good job of performing the ceremony, Ashara hardly notices, her attention fixed on her beloved.

They’ve written their own vows, and it’s Shepard who’s supposed to go first, but when she looks into the asari’s bright blue eyes shinning with love, it takes her a moment to remember where she even is let alone what she’s supposed to say.  “Liara, I…”  She swallows and finds her voice, trying to convey with her words the depths of her feelings for her lover.

“It’s hard for me to know where to even begin, except to say that I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you.  The things that happened in the last few years, well, I don’t think that anyone could have been ready for them.  I certainly wasn’t, but I found a way to get through anyway, and it’s because of you.”

“You won my heart so fast I barely noticed when it happened, but you also became tougher and more capable than I ever expected, the best partner anyone could have asked for.  Even when it seemed like there was no hope left for me, you never gave up, and without you, I wouldn’t have gotten this second chance.  And you kept me believing not just that we could win, but that there was something worth winning for, something worth coming back to.  I love you Liara T’Soni, and now that the war is over, I can’t think of any better reward than getting to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Liara bows her head and Shepard can see her blinking back tears, but when she speaks her voice is clear and full of happiness.  “Before I met  you, I had been a solitary person.  I had never even considered taking a bondmate and instead, your love convinced me to become the youngest asari in 5 generations of the T’Soni family to do so.  It is, I suppose, one more thing we can add to the list of incredible feats you have accomplished.”  Some of the audience laughs, and Liara continues.

“You said that I never gave up on you.  How could I have, when I loved you so much?  You have done so much for me, and made me so much stronger than I ever thought I could be.  It has been my privilege to fight by your side these last years, Ashara Shepard, and nothing could give me greater joy than to say that I will be your wife.”

Shepard can almost feel Tali beaming with happiness for them from behind her helmet as she declares, “I now pronounce you wife and wife.  You may kiss.”

Ashara steps forward and wraps her arms around Liara’s back even as her new wife throws hers around her neck.  Their lips come together, and as Shepard feels Liara’s soft lips parting for her, the small crowd around them bursts into cheers.  The kiss deepens, her wife’s nimble tongue sliding into her mouth, the sweet warm taste of Liara filling her senses.  For a brief instant, Liara’s eyes flash dark and their minds touch together, just long enough for the word, “forever,” to be sent into Shepard‘s thoughts, and her “always” to be heard in return.

 

The reception passes in a blur.  Comrades and friends come to offer their congratulations and good wishes for the new life she and Shepard are about to start, but though she’s grateful, it’s hard for her to think about anything but her wife.

Liara hadn’t expected to be this deeply touched by the wedding; they had pledged themselves to each other over a year ago after all, and yet, this is different.  That day on the Citadel had been a hopeful promise, the sharing of a dream that maybe, just maybe, they would survive long enough to achieve.  This ceremony is an affirmation that they’ve made it, that they’re really ready to begin their new life together.

With a final hug from Tali and an exhortation from Joker to “Take pictures,” she and Shepard make their way together towards the elevator, and as the doors close behind them, Ashara is already pulling her into her arms.

“God, you look fantastic.”  Her new wife’s breath is warm against her cheek, Shepard’s voice low and sultry.  “I haven’t been able to think straight since the moment you came out of those doors.”  Eager fingers caress Liara's thigh, the satin delightfully smooth when it rubs against the blue skin beneath it.

“I am glad you approve,” she manages, even as Shepard’s other hand is curving around the back of her crest, playing its way along a particularly sensitive ridge that Ashara knows she loves to have stroked.

Her knees start to feel weak as Shepard purrs, “I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life doing this.”  The doors open behind them, and the couple stumbles out of them, falling through the entrance to the commander’s cabin.  They don’t even make it to the bed, Ashara pushing her up against a wall, her fingers tracing their way up the slit of her dress to caress the bare skin of her leg.

The asari can only whimper into Ashara’s kiss as she feels the lacy scrap of white underwear she’s wearing begin to be lifted.  She loves when Shepard is like this, so turned on, burning so hot for her.  No one Liara's ever met arouses her the way that Ashara does, and to be able to have the same effect on the woman she loves is intoxicating.

The tips of Ashara’s fingers start to brush over her inner scales, and she can tell how wet she already is, digits gliding so easily across slick flesh.  Her hand clutches at Ashara’s dirty blonde hair, trying to keep herself from collapsing entirely.  Shepard’s free arm supports her, wrapping around her waist, and when she feels her lover enter her, Liara lets out a soft cry, her eyes already starting to fleck with darkness.

First one and then two fingers thrust inside the asari, and before her self-control can vanish entirely, she chokes out, “Wait.”

“What is it?”, Ashara asks, her fingers sliding out, but not before brushing tantalizingly over Liara’s clit, further testing her crumbling resolve.

“Together,” she gasps, and with a supreme effort of will, she summons enough biotic power to push Shepard gently back in the direction of the bed.  “You need less clothes,” she insists hungrily, and Ashara gets the message, rapidly removing her uniform even as she lays back on the sheets.

Liara kicks off her shoes before letting her dress slide off of her shoulders and finally bending down to remove her now-soaked panties.  In spite of her desire, she forces herself to walk slowly towards the bed, knowing how much Ashara likes watching her naked body, loving the intensity in the way those pale green eyes are starring up at her.  By now, the human has succeeded in removing her shirt, bra, and pants, but before she can get to her green silk underwear, Liara stops her.  “Let me,” she purrs, dropping down onto the bed beneath Ashara.

The asari swiftly kisses her way up Shepard’s bare leg before removing her panties.  The commander is wonderfully aroused, her wet folds slick as Liara enthusiastically flicks her tongue over and between them.  She dips her tongue inside for a moment, eager for more of the rich, thick taste she can never get enough of.  Between her legs, her own clit is throbbing desperately for more, but Liara can wait a minute if it means pushing Shepard as close to the brink as she is before they meld.

Her wife moans as Liara takes her clit into her mouth, sucking on the hard point and when Shepard’s fingers frantically caress her crest, the asari knows she can’t hold off any more.  She cocks her head up and her eyes are black with desire, latching on to Shepard’s willing mind.

The mixture of love and desire she’s so used to fills her, but as strong as she can remember it being, and a rush of images flow through the bond.  Therum… before Ilos… after Hagalaz… after the war… Goddess, they’ve had so many wonderful moments, and the thought of how many more they have to come fills her with indescribable happiness.  “Always,” she whispers, repeating what Ashara sent to her at the wedding, and when, “Forever,” comes back from her wife, Liara can’t wait any longer.

She glides up Shepard’s body, brushing the erect tips of her dark blue nipples over the warm skin beneath her before falling into her wife’s arms.  Strong hands pull her close and a thigh parts her legs, sliding expertly over her slick core even as she feels Shepard pressing herself against Liara as well.

They move together, thoughts and bodies flowing as one, the bond making it deliciously easy to find just the right angles and share the pleasure that results when they do.  Every time Shepard runs her thigh along the engorged length of Liara’s clit, the asari can feel herself moving a little closer, and she runs her tongue over her lover’s ear, whispering in her mind, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she hears back, “More than anything else in the galaxy,” and Ashara’s hand caresses her backside, pulling her tighter, increasing the friction between them.  Liara can’t last much longer, and she doesn’t want to, the desire to come and feel Shepard do the same incredibly strong in her mind.

“God, yes.  Together.”  She can hear the response to her unspoken need, and Shepard’s other hand slides down between them.  Her fingers curl inside Liara’s soaked entrance, and that’s what finally does it, the sensation of her lover inside her pulling Liara over the edge even as a final press of her thigh against Shepard’s swollen clit does then same for her.  Their climaxes merge through the meld, twinning and heightening their pleasure, drawing it out over a timeless moment.

Even as it passes and the meld slowly recedes, Liara still finds it too much to move or even speak, content to just hold and be held, to enjoy the rapturous smile she sees on Ashara’s beautiful face.  She knows this won’t last forever.  There’s still desire in her wife’s eyes along with happiness, and she feels it too, the intensity of the craving she feels for Shepard not easily satisfied despite the bliss they’ve just shared.  But that’s a good thing.  There’s no more war, no need to drag themselves away from what they can’t get enough of.  They have the rest of the night to be satisfied and a lifetime to enjoy this together.


	2. Screw You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is set shortly before Chapter 6 of Where They Travelled, and it the depicts the incident between Jack and Miranda that Jack recounts to Shepard there.

“And I,” Jack argues, “Say that chick needs to get laid.  400 years of just humping your own blue hand is a long time even if you have sworn some stupid justicar oath.”

Kahlee Sanders laughs.  “All right, ladies, I’m calling it a night.  I believe I’ve reached the limits of my ability to keep up with you two.” 

“Good night,” Miranda smiles.  “Perhaps I will see you tomorrow before I leave.”  She can hardly blame her for giving up.  Between Miranda’s augmented physiology and Jack’s biotically fueled metabolism, trying to match drinks with either of them is a foolhardy endeavor for most people. 

Still, Miranda’s sorry to see Kahlee go.  The blonde had been the one who suggested that as long as Miranda was here escorting some new students to Grissom Academy, the three of them should catch up.  While Sanders was here, she’d been acting as a calming influence, but her departure leaves Miranda alone with her least favorite former member of the _Normandy’s_ crew.

“A lovely woman,” Miranda observes as Jack pours herself another shot of whisky.  “How she puts up with you all the time I will never know.”  She wouldn’t normally provoke Jack so deliberately, but the woman has been absolutely insufferable tonight, treating nearly every mention of their old comrades as an excuse to alternately bad-mouth them or make obscene suggestions about their current activities.

Jack pounds down the drink.  “Puts up with me?  You were always the cold-hearted bitch no one else could stand.”

That cuts too close to home.  Beyond Jacob and later Shepard, there were not many people on the _Normandy_ she got along with and she doesn’t like being reminded of it.  “Yes, whereas I imagine you were as popular as an asari stripper at a bachelor party.”  It’s hard for Miranda to keep the venomous edge out of her voice, the resentments that Shepard never let her fully vent bubbling up to the surface.  There’s just something about Jack that gets under her skin like no one else that she’s ever met.

“Hey, Grunt, Zaeed, and I all got along great.”

“Ah yes, making friends with a tank-bred krogan too young to know any better and a sociopathic mercenary.  A shining testament to your social skills.”

 “Fuck you, princess.  You’re a killer too.  The only difference between you and Zaeed is that he doesn’t have a stick up his ass.”  She shoots Miranda an angry glare.  “I don’t know why I’m even wasting my booze on a terrorist like you.”

“A terrorist like me?  You’re the one whose idea of a good time was crashing a space station into a hanar moon.”  Miranda takes another shot of the whisky.  “If you want to talk about mysteries, I don’t know how someone with your extensive criminal record was ever hired to be a teacher.”

Jack chuckles.  “Hey, I’m very popular with my students.”

“I’m sure you are.  Adolescents are always fond of anyone who gives them a peek at their breasts.”  Jack’s laugh dies on her lips and Miranda’s mouth curls into a sneer.  “Do you let them do more than look?”

Miranda realizes as soon as she says it that she’s crossed a line, attacking the thing that matters most to Jack, but she’s still unprepared for what happens next.  One instant, Jack is snarling, “Shut your mouth, you fucking Cerberus whore,” and the next, she’s reaching across the table, grabbing Miranda’s head and shoving her tongue down the surprised brunette’s throat.

The jolt of pleasure that runs through Miranda at the press of the ex-convict’s lips is startling to say the least, but she’s not going to let that show.  Instead, she throws Jack off of her before cursing at her, “What in the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

Jack smirks back nastily.  “Give me a fucking break.  You liked that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she lies, but the blush in her cheeks is giving her away.  Miranda can’t stand the woman, but she also can’t deny that there was electricity in the biotic’s lips, a bolt of lightning that ran straight down Ms. Lawson’s spine when they kissed.

“Hey, I may not have a genetically enhanced intellect like you, but I know damn well when somebody enjoys what I’m doing.”

Fine.  If she can’t bluff her way out of this, she’ll have to turn it back around on Jack.  “And I can tell the difference between someone who wants to shut me up and someone who just wants me.”  Before Jack can think of a comeback to that, Miranda pulls the shorter woman close to her again, kissing her full lips hard and grabbing her ass through the fabric of her dark jeans.

Jack tastes like liquor and power, her body all lean muscle and taut energy, but when she moans into Miranda’s mouth, the former operative is relieved.  She knows how to deal with people who’re attracted to her; it’s the desire building in her own body that she’s not as used to.

Pushing that concern to one side, she yanks off Jack’s Grissom Academy t-shirt, a flare of biotic energy aiding her task.  The ex-convict’s skin is bare beneath it, her pert, tattooed breasts flushed with desire.  The nipples atop them are already hard and as Miranda begins rolling one of them between her fingers, she hisses in Jack’s ear, “Is that all this was?  All these years, all that attitude you gave me was just your crude way of hiding your horniness?”

Jack moans into her shoulder and Miranda’s confident that she has her.  She has more experience with men than women and less with either than one might think, but she’s very good at reading what people want and Jack wants this.  The elevated pulse, the rapid breathing, the way her body presses into her touch: whatever the biotic was thinking when she first kissed Miranda, she’s clearly aroused now.

Miranda pushes her back against the table, running her free hand up Jack’s clothed leg even as her other keeps playing with her breasts.  She’s so sure she has the upper hand, but then, even as her hand starts to rub over Jack’s clothed crotch, the woman breaks free, a burst of biotic energy knocking Miranda off of her.

“Nice try, cheerleader,” Jack laughs, shaking her head to clear her thoughts, “But I’m not going to be the only one that loses her shirt.”  She clenches her first and her biotic field rips Miranda’s Alliance uniform shirt open, tearing her black lace bra off in the process.  Miranda’s nipples are rock hard, and Jacks grins.  “Looks like you really were enjoying this.”  The biotic chuckles.  “I should kick you out right now.  Shove your ass out in the hall and let everyone see what a little Cerberus slut you really are.”

“You fucking little bitch!  You wouldn’t dare!”

“Don’t worry,” Jack replies with a chuckle, “I’m gonna have too much fun with you in here to do that just yet.”  With a gesture, she yanks Miranda close to her again, running her teeth and tongue over a pink bud, looking up smugly when an involuntary groan escapes from the brunette.  “See, the difference between us is I can admit what I want.  I wanna fuck you.  Why not?  You’re built to be a sex-bot anyway.   Your problem,” she explains as she removes Miranda’s belt and unbuttons her pants with a thought, “is that you’re so stuck up that you can’t just admit how soaking wet you are for someone like me.”

The damnable thing of it is that she’s right.  As Jack’s hand moves inside her black panties and through the neatly trimmed strip of dark hair beneath them, Miranda can’t remember being this turned on.  When she’s had sex in the past it’s either been because she wanted something from her partner or at most because she was expressing moderate affection.  She’s never felt anything like the animal passion this infuriating woman’s fingers caressing her swollen folds is bringing out of her.

The hell with it.  Why should she be ashamed of taking what she wants from Jack?  With a low growl, she summons her own biotics, pushing off the field constraining her.  She yanks the ex-convict’s belt off and shoves her hand down the back of her pants, pushing inside her boxers to caress her firm ass.  “You’re right,” she snaps, her right hand curling around to rub the engorged flesh between Jack’s legs.  “I do want this.”  She tangles her left in Jack’s short brown hair, pulling her in for a fierce kiss.

Jack finishes yanking down her uniform pants to get better access to Miranda and as two of her fingers slide into the ex-Cerberus operative, the biotic purrs nastily, “Real easy.  The Illusive Man loosen you up for me?”

A gasp of pleasure escapes Miranda and lacking the words to reply to the dig, she pushes her own fingers inside Jack’s tight, wet heat.  That shuts her up admirably, and Miranda takes advantage of her distraction to push a knee between Jack’s thighs.  The ex-convict begins grinding against her, and Miranda can see in her big, brown eyes an echo of the same energy she’s feeling: lust mixed with other emotions, harder to define but present none the less.

Jack pushes her palm against Miranda’s clit, and as she resumes her thrusts, the operative can’t believe how easily she’s being pushed towards climax.  A press of her finger’s against Jack’s pulsing inner walls makes the shorter woman dig her nails into Miranda’s back, and she can tell she’s not the only one.  The sharpness of the need inside her is more than she’s ever felt before, but she’ll be damned if she’s going to give Jack the satisfaction of making her finish first.

She presses her leg hard against Jack’s clit and she hears, “More,” being moaned in her ear.  For just an second, she can see a trace of vulnerability beneath the anger, and when she pushes as deep as she can inside, the biotic gives in, her channel spasming around thrusting fingers. 

Jack’s teeth sink into her shoulder, stifling a cry of pleasure, but Miranda’s triumph is short-lived.  The twitching digits inside her release a tiny pulse of biotic energy, and the extra stimulation combined with the feeling of Jack coming unraveled against her is too much.  She screams like she never does, her knees going wobbly as her orgasm rips through her.

The release is so much stronger than she’s used to, a burning bolt in her system as compared to the pleasant warmth she normally feels, and the two _Normandy_ veterans collapse away from each other, both breathing hard.  The lust that had clouded Miranda’s brain is clearing and she’s momentarily speechless.  What do you say when a woman you despise just gave you the most powerful orgasm of your life?  Jack doesn’t open her mouth either, an unusual look of contentment on her face, and for a moment, Miranda can’t fathom what comes next.

And then Jack shakes her head, and that contemptuous sneer returns.  “You waiting for something?  You think we’re gonna cuddle now?”  She snorts and Miranda curses herself for thinking even for an instant that this was more than a hate fuck.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snarls back.  Pulling on her pants and underwear, she grabs a black t-shirt Jack has left lying on the floor to replace the uniform the biotic destroyed.  Though it’s probably too big on Jack, it’s ridiculously tight on the well-endowed operative but there’s no alternative she can think of. 

Throwing open the door to Jack’s quarters, she stalks through the halls of Grissom Academy and back to her guest room.  Her unusual appearance elicits stares from those night owls still up and about to see it, but the frigid look on her face deflects any unwanted questions.  Given the mix of lust, anger, and self-loathing warring within her, she has no desire to talk to anyone else.

 

Liquor and fatigue let Miranda fall asleep quickly despite the roil of emotion she’s feeling, but when she wakes, her thoughts remain unsettled.  A part of her wants to dismiss what happened as being caused by a mixture of alcohol and loneliness, but that’s not entirely convincing.

Even if the red mark on her shoulder and the pleasant soreness between her legs weren’t reminder enough, her brain keeps replaying the events of the previous night.  The memories aren’t exactly unpleasant either, no matter how much she may dislike the woman associated with them. 

Why did it have to be Jack?  What’s wrong with Miranda that, of all people, Jack is the one that she felt that kind of a spark with?  The idea of actually having a relationship with the ex-convict is absurd, and it’s not like her former crewmate’s behavior in the aftermath suggests she feels any differently.

It would be easy to avoid Jack until she leaves.  The students Miranda brought to the academy are settled in, and it’ll just be another 10 hours or so until her ship departs.  It’s unworthy of her though.  She’s Miranda Lawson and she’s not hiding in her room from that damned lunatic.  She’s going to face this like an adult, and so a shower and a fresh uniform later, she’s heading down to the dinning hall to get some breakfast.

She finds Jack already there, finishing up a stack of pancakes, and before she can leave, Miranda sits down across from her.  “Jack.  I thought perhaps we should talk.”

“Why,” Jack mumbles, her mouth full of food.

“I don’t know?”  Miranda’s voice drips with sarcasm, but she keeps it quiet, not wanting to draw attention to their argument.  “Maybe because we spent the entire evening insulting each other and then had mind-blowing sex.”

That elicits a smirk from Jack.  “Glad I blew you mind, cheerleader,” she quips casually.

“Really?”  She can’t believe Jack is going to blow her off like this.  “Is that all you have to say?  Like you weren’t moaning just as loudly when I was in you?  Like you didn’t bite my shoulder so hard when you came that I still have the mark this morning?”

“So you’re good.  What’s your fucking point?  It’s not like you’re useful for much else.”

Miranda stands from the table, enraged.  She’s yelling now, but she can’t stand it anymore, the infuriating smugness along with the feigned indifference.  “All I’m good for?  Me?  You fucking hypocritical piece of trash!  We should have left you in that freezer to rot for all the use you are!”

Jack rises as well, a corona of biotic energy flaring around her.  For a moment, Miranda thinks she’s about to hurl the entire breakfast setting at her, but when Jack sees the rest of the room looking at them, she lets the field go and just growls, “Screw you,” before stalking off in the other direction.

“Good answer, Jack,” Miranda sneers before striding angrily out of the mess hall.

Out of sight of the crowd, the operative sighs to herself.  For years she told herself that people were rotten and relationships were for fools.  As with many things, she’s softened on that point.  After all, Shepard is no one’s fool and how could anyone look at her and Liara together and not recognize that they have something special?

But that’s a theoretical perspective.  In practice, Miranda has had no more romantic success since the war then before it, and now, this is the connection she makes.  Just my luck, she thinks bitterly.  Shepard gets a brilliant, devoted asari scientist and I wind up with a tattooed psychotic.  It may be a shame that their obvious sexual chemistry is going to waste, but after that little display, it’s clear to her that there’s no alternative.

 


	3. Every Step of The Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in-between chapters 8 and 9 of What Was Saved.

_The Normandy is burning.  Stem to stern, the only home she has left is consumed in fire and all Liara can do is run.  Her mouth fills with the taste of ashes and she stumbles, coughing, eyes blinded by the smoke, into the escape pod._

_“Shepard!”  As the door slides closed behind her, she rubs her eyes, frantically looking around the capsule for her lover.  She’s supposed to be here, waiting for Liara, but inside there’s only emptiness, a vast, impossibly large blackness where someone, anyone else should be.  She screams, trying to open the pod door, but it has sealed itself behind her, the metal cold and unmoving in spite of her desperate pulls on the handle._

_Through the small widow, she can see an armored figure running around the corner, wreathed in flames.  As she approaches the door, she tears off her helmet, and beneath it is Ashara Shepard, her beautiful features caked with soot, her green eyes wide with terror._

_“Liara!”, she begs, her fists beating against the airlock.  “Let me in!”_

_“I can’t!”  The asari sees the controls for the electronic override, but her fumbling efforts make no impact on the uncaring mechanism.  She knows the code, somewhere in the back of her panicked mind, but the numbers won’t come.  All her knowledge, all her years of schooling and she can’t recall the six simple digits that would save Ashara’s life._

_Behind her, she can hear the horrid screams of the Reapers, waiting for her somewhere in that indefinable blackness, but all she can see is the fire making it’s way up the armor, engulfing the woman she loves.  Ashara slumps to her knees as the flesh begins to melt off of her body, her hands falling helplessly to the deck of the ship, her mouth open to scream, but no sound coming out as the smoke fills her lungs…_

 

“Ashara!”  Liara wakes up screaming her bondmate’s name, beads of sweat covering her naked body.  She looks frantically across the bed, but there’s no one there.  She’s alone.

And then she feels a protective arm wrapping around her waist and a strong voice reassuring her, “It’s okay, Liara.  I’m here.”

“Ashara.”  Her repetition of the name is softer as she rolls over, seeing Shepard’s loving face looking at her, her eyes narrowed with concern.  “You are… you are all right.”

It’s a question and a statement all wrapped into one and the Spectre pulls her tight against her body.  “I am.  I’m here,” she repeats.  Liara nuzzles her head into Shepard’s chest.  She’s so solid, her strong arms, her firm breasts, and her warm skin all reminding Liara of her reality, and the asari feels her breathing gradually returning to normal.

Ashara’s hand strokes her back, soothing her frazzled nerves, but a wave of guilt suddenly washes over Liara.  She’s not the only one with bad dreams.  “I’m sorry for waking you,” she apologizes.  “You were getting a decent night’s sleep for once and I have ruined it.”

“Hey, don’t say that.  You’re here for me, I’m here for you.”

A tear runs down her cheek.  “Not always.  Goddess, Shepard, I left you and you almost…”  She can’t even bring herself to say the words.  When she heard that Shepard was alive and injured back in the Sol System, it made her strong.  She had held herself together because Ashara needed her to make it back, but now all she can think about sometimes is how close she came to losing the love of her life.

“I know.  I almost died.”

It doesn’t sound quite as terrible to hear Ashara say it, because at least it means she’s still alive, but her walls are down now and she sobs softly into her bondmate’s shoulder.  “And I was not there.  I should have been there.”

Shepard leans down and catches Liara’s mouth with her soft lips.  The asari can feel the love and concern in the way she holds the kiss, pressing her close and letting it last as long as Liara needs.

When at last the information broker pulls back, Shepard brings her hand to rest gently on her crest.  “Liara, will you meld with me?  I want to show you something.”

“Of course, Shepard.  But what is it?”

Ashara takes a deep breath.  “The Citadel.”

“Are you certain?”  The last time she got close to those memories, after she first got Shepard back, the Spectre had pulled away.  “You told me what happened to you there, but that is not the same as reliving it."

“I realize that, but I think this will help.”

“Ashara, if this is going to hurt you, I won’t do it.”

The human’s hand slips down to grasp Liara’s blue one.  “I don’t need the meld to see those moments.”

“Very well.”  Liara’s eyes go black and she feels Ashara’s overwhelming love envelop her.  There is some fear there, the events hard for her to think about, but there’s strength along with it, the determination that won the war standing like steel in her thoughts.  “Focus on that day,” Liara whispers to Shepard and the commander’s cabin aboard the _Normandy_ melts away, replaced with the shattered remains of London, the sky filled with light, the ground with rubble.

_Ashara is pulling herself to her feet, her frame bloody, the shattered remains of her armor lying on the ground behind her.  As she picks up a discarded pistol, she can hear distant voices over some still-functioning comm unit informing her there’s no one left alive, calling on the remains of Hammer to pull back.  It’s up to her then, same as it always is…_

_Weakness permeates her body, every step forward an agonizing strain.  Her arms feel like they weigh a thousand pounds, but she makes herself lift the pistol…  Firing into the Husks, she breathes a labored sigh of relief, watching them fall only seconds before their clawed hands reach her….  The lance of pain shooting through her shoulder when the Marauder’s bullet impacts it.  Fighting down the fear, her shaking hand somehow holds the gun steady through the jerks as it fires, killing the twisted turian an instant before it can kill her…_

Liara gasps and her hand squeezes tighter around Ashara’s.  She’s been wounded many times in battle, but she’s never felt anything like this.  “Goddess, Shepard.  How did you keep going?  The pain you were in…”

“Go deeper.”  Shepard voice is reassuring, a reminder that that is just a memory.  “Let me show you.”  Taking a breath, Liara plunges back into the past, strengthening the meld as she does.

_Ashara is on the Citadel now, the station a slaughterhouse.  Mangled corpses lie everywhere, the sight and the stench almost enough to overwhelm her senses in her weakened state.  Just keeping walking, she tells herself, you can do this. You have to do this, have to make the Reapers pay for this abomination._

_Can she, though?  She used to think she could do anything, meet any challenge, overcome any foe, but she’s failed so many people.  Kaiden, Mordin, Thane, Legion: all dead because she couldn’t save them.  Half the galaxy is burning because she couldn’t stop it.  Who has she really helped?  Who has she saved?_

_Liara.  She saved Liara on Therum, saved her on Mars, and now, her bondmate needs Ashara to save her one more time.  And it’s not just her.  Ashley, Garrus, Tali, the rest of the galaxy isn’t lost yet.  They don’t care how many people she’s let down.  They need her to finish this for them.  She takes a step forward and then another.  Anderson has to be close by and she’s going to make it to him, no matter the hurt._

 “That’s how I did it,” Shepard whispers across the bond.

_She raises her gun, pointing it at the power conduit.  She should be dead on her feet, the strength drained from her body like the blood coating the front of her uniform shirt, but she’s not.  She’s calm, determined.  Becoming a machine, controlling the Reapers, transforming the whole galaxy into god knows what, she has no right to do those things.  This, right here, is it, the only thing she can do: destroy the Reapers and end the war.  The pistol recoils, heavy in her hand, over and over, but she doesn’t flinch.  The sparks fly, the energy builds, and then the fire washes over her.  The last thing she sees before the darkness overtakes her is Liara, smiling down at her.  Whatever happens to Shepard, at least her bondmate will be safe._

Liara shivers beneath the sheets, feeling like the temperature has dropped twenty degrees.  Shepard’s chest is clammy, and Liara can feel the Spectre’s heart pounding in her chest, but her lover keeps her close.  “Just a little more, Liara,” she assures her.  “There’s one more thing you need to see.”

_It’s finished now.  Shepard’s done everything they’ve ever wanted her to, and surely it’s not too much to ask to lie down and rest.  She can see the ghosts all around her, everyone she’s lost, telling her it’s okay, that she made it.  Her eyes are so heavy, lidded and weary, and as they begin to close, it seems for an instant that there would be nothing sweeter than to just fall asleep.  But then she sees her.  Liara is standing there in the mist, her voice soft and loving, asking her to come back, and she knows it’s not over yet.  Not for her.  It can’t be._

The meld fades away and Liara is back in their bed, her pulse racing.  “You see,” her bondmate whispers lovingly, “You never left me.  You were there every step of the way.”

“Ashara.” She struggles to find her words.  “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

Her smile is filled with gratitude.  “It meant a great deal to me to see that.”  She can feel the cold sweat on Ashara’s skin though and there was a slight tremor in her voice when she spoke before.  “What about you?  Are you all right, love?”

“Yeah.”  Shepard pauses.  “A little shaken maybe.”

Liara kisses her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, trying to show her how much she appreciates her lover’s willingness to do this for her.  “You have always been so good to me.”

“You have too, Liara.  From the day we first met.”

“Then let me show you something as well.”  Shepard smiles in agreement and Liara lets her mind join once more with her bondmate’s, drawing her into the asari’s own memories.

_It’s over.  They’re alive.  Standing together on the bridge of the Normandy, those two facts seem to overwhelm the silent crew.  Where they are now, how they’re going to get back home, those problems can wait for another time.  Right now, they’re just lost in a victory that hardly seemed possible until it actually happened._

_“Goddamn it, she did it  She really did it.”  It’s Ashley who first breaks the awed quiet, her voice filled with wonder._

_“Did you ever doubt it?”  Tali has her arm around Garrus, no longer bothering to hide their relationship.  “Million year old doom machines are no match for Commander Shepard.”_

_“What are we going to do now?”  Samantha Traynor is running her fingers through her dark hair, seemingly unable to believe this is real.  “I mean, we have our whole lives to look forward to now.”_

_Vega grins.  “I don’t know about the rest of our lives, but right now, I’m having a drink.”_

_Garrus laughs  “I can second that.”  He pauses, looking over at her.  “Liara, are you okay?”_

_The asari stands there looking at everyone else, taking in their joy and relief.  She wishes she knew that Shepard was all right, but right now, all she can feel is an overwhelming sense of pride in most remarkable bondmate that she can imagine._

Liara brushes her fingers lightly over Shepard’s lips as the meld recedes.  “You really are,” she says softly.  “I know there are things you regret, people that you did not save, but remember that you made that moment possible.”  She leans in and kisses Ashara tenderly, and as Shepard relaxes into her arms, Liara adds brightly,  “And all the ones we have to come.”


	4. Ding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set right after the end of Where They Travelled.

Ding!  On some level, Miranda has always known that Jack was going to drive her crazy.  Still, she never would have guessed that it was this simple sound that would push her over the edge.  “In a minute, Jack!”, she snaps, trying to finish up some late-night paperwork before she sees what her lover wants this time.

Ding!  Of course Jack’s not going to be patient.  Ever since the _Normandy_ dropped the two of them off at Grissom Academy, Miranda’s been the one looking after her.  Given that the leviathan partially crushed Jack’s ribs, she’s not supposed to talk too much or speak above a whisper, so Miranda synched their omni-tools to allow her to ring if she needs anything.

That had been a mistake.  All Miranda wants is for Jack to avoid undue strain and look to her recovery, but the biotic insists on fighting her every step of the way.  Every suggestion, every instruction Miranda gives leads to another argument, and meanwhile Jack is using the buzzer less as a call for help and more as a way to annoy her.

Ding!  “Fine, Jack.  I’m coming.”  Walking into the bedroom, Miranda finds the ex-convict lying in bed in a black tank-top and grey gym shorts holding up an empty beer bottle.

“Really?”  She shakes her head disapprovingly.

Jack smirks at her.  “Refill,” she whispers.

“That’s your recovery plan?  Alcohol?”  The smirk turns into a smile.  Irritating as she may be, there’s something endearing about the way Jack looks her at with those big brown eyes.  In the old days, when Miranda had hated her, she’d never noticed how pretty they are.  “How about a glass of milk?”, she suggests.  Jack snorts but nods, and Miranda leaves to fetch it.

Returning with the drink, she hands it to Jack only to get a smack on the ass in return.  “For God’s sake, Jack,” she sighs as the ex-convict swigs it down.  “Do you really think that is an appropriate…”

“Sure.”  Miranda’s words are cut off as Jack begins running her hand up and down her leg, caressing her through the wool of her Alliance uniform pants, making her way dangerously far up her thigh. 

“Jack, you are not well enough for this.  What do you think, that I’m going to fuck you until a lung collapses?”  She pulls away, ignoring Jack’s devilish expression.  “If you are going to keep acting this way, I think it would be better if I slept on the couch.”

 

She leaves the room, Jack’s raspy hiss of laughter further jangling her frayed nerves.  Reaching the living room, Miranda sinks down on the small sofa there with an exasperated moan.  She really doesn’t know what’s wrong with Jack.  They had been making so much progress.  Their visit up until Shepard’s call had been going very well, to say nothing of their night before the battle.  So why won’t Jack let her take proper care of her?  Why has she been treating Miranda like a cross between a maid and a prostitute?  She feels like they’ve regressed right back to where they were at the beginning of this… well, Miranda had thought it was a relationship.

It certainly is for her.  It had started as just sex, an erotic connection she couldn’t deny even as she’d hated it.  Then it was a way to fight a loneliness she was tired of living with.  Now though, it’s more.  She genuinely cares about the tattooed biotic, and she could swear the woman cares about her too.  So why is she acting this way?

Unable to fall asleep, she calculates the time differential with Thessia.  Nine at night; not too late.  She hates asking for help, but unlike molecular biology or advanced field technology, this is something well outside her area of expertise, so it’s time to call the only close friend she has that’s in a functional relationship.

 

When Shepard answers her call, she’s on her omni-tool, wearing a pair of black pajamas.  “Shepard.  Did I call at a bad time?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.  I already put Moira to bed and Liara’s catching up on intel that backed up during the mission.  I’m just working on my model ships.”  She grins, examining something Miranda can’t see.  “Some of them require assembly.”

In spite of her frustration, Miranda smiles back.  There was always something a bit odd about the great Commander Shepard’s interest in toy ships but the woman seems so content just then that it’s hard for Miranda, in her agitated state, not to envy her.  “Very well.  I am calling about Jack.”

In an instant, Miranda can see the relaxed woman vanish behind the concerned commander.  “Is she all right?”

“Physically, yes.  Her recovery is going as well as can be expected under the circumstances.  It is more of a personal problem.”

Shepard expression eases.  “Sure.  What can I do for you?”

“It is just…”  She finds she’s having a hard time putting it into words.  “Ever since we got back to Grissom Academy, she has been insufferable.  She refuses to take proper care of herself and instead she pretends that there is nothing wrong with her body.  Drinking, pestering me for sex she is not well enough to have…”  She doesn’t exactly mean to be so personal, but all of her frustrations seem to be pouring out of her.

Shepard laughs and Miranda snaps, “It is not funny, Shepard.  I thought that she and I had progressed past this point in our relationship.”

“Sorry, Miranda, I know it’s frustrating.  It’s just, picturing Jack as a difficult patient isn’t much of a stretch.”

The operative shakes her head.  “I imagine it’s more amusing if you’re a few relay jumps away.”

“That’s fair enough.”  The former Spectre turns serious again.  “Listen Miranda, I know Jack pretty well, and I’ve been where she is.  It’s not easy for a tough girl like her to feel vulnerable.  It certainly wasn’t for me.  After the war, I couldn’t get off that hospital ship fast enough, regardless of my condition, and I threw myself back into the relief work even though I still wasn’t 100%, especially mentally.  Liara had to push me into taking that vacation before I could admit I needed it.”

Miranda listens respectfully, but when Shepard finishes, the operative makes a dismissive gesture with her hand.  “I appreciate you’re trying to make me feel better, but I was there with you two after you woke up.  You did not treat Liara this way.”

“No, but everyone reacts differently in these situations.  Jack is still new to the concept of a relationship, especially with someone she has such a complicated history with.  Trust me, when we were on this last mission, I watched you two together and you really are important to her.  You just have to find a way to reach past whatever nonsense she’s pulling and get her to remember that.”

“I hope that it’s that easy.”

“I never said it would be easy.”  Ashara chuckles good-naturedly.  “But I’ve seen how determined you can be when you put your mind to something.”

“I suppose I cannot claim I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.  Thank you, Shepard.”

Ending the call, Miranda makes her way from the comm room back towards Jack’s quarters.  Shepard is probably right about what her lover is feeling but that alone doesn’t tell the operative how to get through to her. 

She tries to put herself in Jack’s shoes; Shepard isn’t the only other person unused to feeling vulnerable.  Her mind goes back to the day she asked the commander to help rescue her sister from her father’s men.  Shepard had been so effective at putting her at ease.  She was good at that, at getting people like her and Jack, to saying nothing of krogan bounty hunters, asari justicars, and even a damn geth to trust her.  How did she do it?  How did she get through to a cold, nearly paranoid woman like Miranda?

It comes to Miranda like a bolt out of the blue, the sudden knowledge of what she has to do.  It’s not what she inclines towards and it’s not what she’s good at, but it’s what Jack needs right now.

 

The next morning when Jack wakes up, she turns on her omni-tool to ding Miranda, but before she can, the operative walks in the bedroom, a smile on her lovely face.  She’s carrying a tray with breakfast from the mess hall: bagels, fruit, and juice.  “Uh, thanks,” Jack whispers, taking the platter and digging in.

“Not a problem, Jack.  I’m sure that you would do the same in my place.”  Miranda climbs into the bed next to her and nestles her head against Jack’s hip while she eats.  It wasn’t what Jack expected.  Every since she got hurt, Miranda’s been treating her like a  fucking child.  She runs her free hand through the dark, silky tresses of Miranda’s hair.  God, she may be an uptight pain in the ass sometimes, but she does feel good, and when Jack finishes off breakfast, her hand begins to work downward, unbuttoning the top of Miranda’s blouse and caressing the edges of her impressive tits.

The operative sets the tray aside and leans up to kiss Jack.  “Still feeling frisky I see.”  Jack braces herself for another reprimand but instead Miranda unbuttons her shirt the rest of the way, exposing her bra-clad breasts.  “Well, I know you’re not ready for anything too strenuous yet, but if you’re feeling well enough for a bit of fun, I could be open to it.”

Jack grins, trying to look pleased with herself for having worn Miranda’s resistance down, but she’s suddenly a little unsure.  She wants this, right?  With a flicker of her biotics, she opens the bra clap and tosses the black, lacy garment away.  She runs her fingers over a plump breast, teasing the pink nipple towards hardness.  Miranda sighs with pleasure and Jack leans over, taking it in her mouth.  Her teeth press down, nipping at the breast and Miranda’s hand grips the back of her head, a throaty sound escaping her lips.  Jack smiles around the nipple, and when her hand reaches down and grabs a handful of her lover’s fantastic ass, the operative’s moans grow louder.  Jack feels her own body start to respond, her nipples hardening under her t-shirt, her breathing growing sharper…

Fuck!  A lance of pain shoots through her as her excited lungs press against her damaged ribs and she pulls away.  She grimaces, not just from the discomfort but from the lecture she knows is coming.  The fucking cheerleader was right.  She’s not up for this.  She’s been insisting she was okay, trying to convince Miranda, and now that she’s been proven wrong, she feels more exposed than ever.

Rather than chastening her though, Miranda just runs her hands through Jack’s short brown hair, kissing her with a rare tenderness.  “It’s okay, honey.  It’s nice to know you want to though.”  Miranda lays her head in Jack’s lap.  “I’m happy just to be here with you.”

And just like that,  the biotic feels the tension start to ebb from her body.  She doesn’t have to prove anything to Miranda, doesn’t have to show her that she can still hold her own.  Right now, she can just be here with the woman she… fuck it, the woman she loves.  Draping her arms down across Miranda’s bare chest, she whispers, “Glad you’re here too.”


	5. Family Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set at around the same time as chapter 11 of Where They Travelled.

Every time she walks through the arched doorway and sees the Thessian sun coming in through the picture windows in the hall, it takes a second for her to remember that it’s not her house anymore.  Sure, Shepard and her kid have redecorated and even remodeled parts of it, but there’s enough that’s the same to remind Matriarch Aethyta where she is.  To remind her that this was the last place she was happy and where a hundred years of misery started.

For someone who used to be a recluse, Liara’s surprisingly perceptive.  “Are you all right, Father?”

Aethyta shakes off the cobwebs of memory and deflects the question.  “I’m fine, kid.  What about you?  Pregnancy and all?”

“Well enough.  Some occasional dizziness, but the doctor said that is to be expected.”

“I’ve been there.  It passes by the third phase.”  She considers making a quip about Shepard’s absence while Liara is knocked up but thinks better of it.  When Liara had first suggested she stay with her for a few days while her bondmate was tracking down Kelly Chambers, she had joked about Shepard chasing tail and nearly gotten her head bitten off for her trouble.  Her daughter had assured her that Shepard was only looking after a member of her crew, and what right did Aethyta have to imply otherwise?  The kid has a point; she barely knows either of them, and if she wants to change that, she’ll have to watch what she says.  Not exactly her forte.

Liara pours them a couple of glasses of some sour human drink called orange juice and reclines on the couch while Aethyta takes a seat in a red armchair nearby.  Her daughter isn’t showing yet, not as far along as Benezia was when Aethyta walked out the door of this house for what she thought would be the last time.

“You are distracted again.”

“I guess so.  It’s seeing you like this.  Makes me think of your mom being pregnant with you.  I wish I’d been there for more of it.”

Liara sips her juice, regarding her coolly.  Her daughter still holds her at arm’s length, uncertain if she can count on her.  She probably wouldn’t feel any differently in Liara’s place.  “Why were you not?  Every time I have heard you speak of my mother, it has been with affection.  What caused you to abandon us?”

Aethyta downs the rest of her own drink, wishing it was something stronger.  “I wouldn’t say I abandoned you, exactly.  It was your mom’s choice at least as much as mine.”

The wariness is still there.  “Perhaps you should explain what you mean by that.”

The old asari takes a deep breath.  She’s not exactly proud of her part in this tale but if she wants to repair things with Liara, she’s gonna have to fess up to her mistakes.  “All right.  You want the story?  I guess you deserve it.”  She leans back into the softness of the chair, remembering.  “Your mom and I, we were in love for a long time.  You might not think it to look at us, but we had a lot in common.  When people get old, they can get set in their ways, and Thessia’s run by some pretty fucking old chicks.” 

She chuckles at the irony of that statement, given her own age, before continuing.  “We wanted to shake things up, to get the asari to stop being so damn smug about their own imagined superiority.  We were both so passionate.”   She pauses, a grin passing over her dark blue face.   “About that, and other things too…”

Liara shudders a little.  “I think we can skip over that part of the story.”

“If you say so.  Anyway, it took a long time to get to a place where people would listen to us.  Benezia was the front, the one that most people knew, but I was the muscle.  I never had her charm, but I knew how to twist the arms that needed twisting behind the scenes.  We made a great team.  At least for a while.”

“What changed?”

“Success.  How’s that for a kick in the fucking quad?  We started to get what we wanted, and it ruined us.  As the politician, Nezzie was the one that reaped the rewards of fame.  One day I looked up and there were all these acolytes hanging off of her every word, kissing her ass.”  She raises her voice a couple of octaves.  “You’re so wise Matriarch Benezia.  Whatever you need, Matriarch Benezia.  Let me suck on your crest, Matriarch Benezia.”

Her daughter blushes and Aethyta laughs bitterly.  She’s glad Shepard at least doesn’t seem to have cultivated those kinds of ass-kissers.  “At first, I tried not to make too much of it.  I told myself that they were a bunch of smitten maidens and I was the one who knew her, who knew what she really wanted.  But it got hard, and after a while, it wasn’t just kids that I was getting jealous of.  We were dealing with powerful people, other asari, aliens, whatever, and I saw the way she was with them.  The outfits she wore.  The way she’d let her hand linger on theirs, all of that shit.  It got to me.  I started wondering what she did with them when I wasn’t around, and once it got in my head, I couldn’t get it out.”

“Was that really what was going on?”, Liara asks tentatively, clearly apprehensive of her answer but too much the curious information broker to let it drop.  “Was she with other people when you two were still together?”

“Fucked if I know.  Even when we joined, she was pretty good at blocking off the parts of her mind she didn’t want me to see.  She definitely could tell what I thought though, and it didn’t make things go any smoother.  The meld can be a beautiful thing when you’re in love, but when shit is falling apart, it can really make things worse.  You feel everything that’s wrong, everything that’s pissing you off…”

_…Nezzie is naked and bent over the kitchen table, Aethyta’s fingers delving into her, when the words, “Is this how you let those turians do it to you?,” thrust into their shared thoughts.  Benezia spun her around with her biotics, shoving her against the wall, pushing her leg between Aethyta’s thighs.  “How dare you?!”  Rolling on the floor, lust, anger, and aggression all flowing into each other, the sex was as much wrestling as fucking, ending in a climax that left more frustration than satisfaction in its wake…_

The memory leaves her sad and horny all at once and she could really use a harder drink than juice.  “You got any booze around here, kid?”

“Considering my condition I have been abstaining, but there should be a few beers in the refrigerator.”

Aethyta pulls herself up, clearing her head of those days as she walks to the kitchen.  Finding some kind of human beer there, she pulls off the cap and has a swig.  Shepard’s got decent taste and she takes another pull while she heads back to the living room.

“Was that what happened, then?”, Liara asks when Aethyta is settled back down on the couch.  “Jealousy?”

“Partly, I guess.  It wasn’t just about the sex, though.  As much as Nezzie and I had in common, there had always been differences.  She was more of a diplomat, and I wanted to focus on new technology and military strength.”  She sips at her beer.  “Thought we’d get more respect if we didn’t get the turians to do our fighting for us.  Early on, we used to compromise, best of both worlds and all that shit.  Later, though, her and all those fucking sycophants of hers started ignoring my arguments and I was a real bitch about it.”

Liara cracks a smile at last.  “I can hardly believe that about you.”

“Don’t be a wise-ass.”  She pauses before smiling.  “That’s my job.  Anyone, we started fighting, and then we started fighting in public.  Made us look like a couple of fucking idiots.”

“Why did you do it then?”  Liara’s tone becomes accusatory all of a sudden, a dark thought having occurred to her.  “Why did you decide to have a daughter together if you were falling apart?”

“Because I loved her!”, Aethyta snaps before her voice becomes softer.  “And she loved me.  It had been a hundred fucking years, and most of them were great.  We didn’t think straight.  We should’ve known having a kid wasn’t the way to fix things, but neither of us could admit that maybe they couldn’t be fixed.”

“So I was a mistake?”  There’s hurt in her daughter’s big, blue eyes and Aethyta feels even worse about herself.

“No, you weren’t.  Your mom, she wanted you whatever happened with us.  She had such plans for you.”  She laughs.  “You were going to follow her into politics, carry on her work.”

Liara brightens.  “I know.  It was such a disappointment to her when I went into archeology instead.”

“Course then you became the most famous asari in the galaxy AND the Shadow Broker.  Nezzie would have been so proud.”

Liara’s smile broadens.  “I would like to think so.” 

“I’m sure of it.”  Aethyta runs a hand across her crest.  She certainly is, even if it’s hard for her to show it.  “So do you want to know how it ended?”

Liara’s voice is steady.  “I would.”           

“It was right here actually.  She was meeting with some salarian politician, hell if I can even remember his name, negotiating about the fuck if it even matters.  I butted in, disagreed with her about some bullshit point, we started yelling, he took off, then we yelled more about that.  She told me that I was a liability.  That it was hard enough with her being bonded to another asari, but that this was ruining her career.”  Her voice gets quieter.  “And then she said that I’d ruin you too.  That if I wanted her daughter to have a real future, I should stay away.”

She finishes off the beer and sets the empty bottle down as Liara sits up, her expression sympathetic.   “I am sorry.  She should not have…”

“Thanks, kid, but I don’t want your pity.”  Liara looks hurt and she clarifies.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  I meant, I did enough pitying myself for the both of us.  After I left, I tried to  strike out on my own.  I had this plan to build new Mass Relays, but the other Matriarchs just laughed at me.  That was when I pretty much started letting my life fall apart.  Moved to Illium, drank too much, worked shitty jobs, did a lot of things neither of us wants to talk about, and generally wasted the next century of my life.”

_She was sitting in a bar when the news got announced on the vid feed that the famous Matriarch Benezia had given birth to a daughter named Liara T’Soni.  A daughter Aethyta might never get to see, no matter how much she wanted to.  When she woke up the next morning next to a turian woman who’s name she didn’t even know with claw marks on her ass and a hangover that could stagger a krogan warlord, she wasn’t sure who she hated more, herself or her former bondmate._

“After a while, I started to believe that Nezzie had been right, that I’d be no good for you.  It wasn’t until after she died that I started to pull my head out of my ass.”

“I am glad that you did,” Liara says kindly.  “I know that we have not always gotten along, but I still want you to be a part of my life.”

“And your daughter’s life?”, Aethyta asks cautiously.

“I would like that as well.”  Liara runs a hand over her stomach.  “Benezia was wrong.  I think that there is a lot that she can learn from you.”  She laughs a little.  “As long as it is not your extensive repertoire of obscenities.”

 “If you’re gonna be such a prude…”   Aethyta snorts.  “Nah, I can manage that.”  She’s already thrown away one chance with her daughter; she’s not going to make it two.


	6. Good News

“Sam, you can play with that thing as much as you want, you’re not going to make it come any faster.”

With an exasperated sigh, Samantha Traynor stands up from the console she’s been staring at.  “I know, I know.  But it’s such a big deal.”  Nelia laughs, the high melody ringing through the empty office.  Their employees have gone home, but with the decision on their proposal scheduled to arrive from Palaven at around midnight Ilium time, Sam and her business partner aren’t going anywhere.  “What’s so funny?”

“Just you, Specialist Traynor.  You were on the _Normandy_ fighting Reapers alongside Commander Shepard and here you are stressing out about a telecommunications contract.”

Samantha slumps down into a chair next to the asari.  “It’s not exactly life and death,” she concedes.  “But it’s really important to our company.  I mean, if we don’t get this…”

“Then we’ll figure something else out.”  Nelia rubs Sam’s shoulder and the human feels a fluttering in her stomach.  She’s been finding it harder and harder to ignore her attraction to the enthusiastic asari, but she’s not sure whether she should say anything about it.

“You’re right.  I’m sure things will work out somehow.”  She certainly hopes so.  Her whole life, she’s worked for other people: as a research assistant to her professors in college, for the Alliance, for Shepard, for Stellar Integration, and she really wants to make a success of her first time being the one in charge.

She’s snapped out of her reverie by the beeping of the console, the “new message received” sound causing her to dash out of her chair and over to the machine, only to read that, “Samantha Traynor, you have been randomly selected to win a free cruise on the luxurious Athame’s Dream…”  She curses quietly.  Stupid spam programs keep getting better at evading her filters.  She really needs to upgrade. 

“Sorry, Nel, it was just…”

Beep!  She clicks on the new message icon that appears on the screen.  “Dear Ms. Traynor, on behalf of Attian Systems, I am pleased to inform you that your bid to provide communications services for our corporation’s branch office on Illium has been accepted.”

There’s more to the message, but it’s lost in a whoop of triumph.  “We got it, Nel!  We got it!”

The asari runs across the room, throwing her arms around Samantha.   “Goddess, that’s wonderful.  And you,” she beams, “Are a genius.”

Sam doesn’t mean to kiss her.  Honest, she doesn’t.  One second she’s trying to come up with a compliment to give back, and the next, their mouths are just moving together, caught up in the excitement of the moment.  She definitely doesn’t mean to open up the kiss, to slip her tongue past those so-soft lips, to taste Nelia, sweet, like those Fasi berries she loves to eat, and oh god, this is so inappropriate.

Sam pulls back, mortified at her own behavior.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t, I mean I shouldn’t have, I mean…”

The second one she definitely doesn’t start.  This time it’s Nelia reaching out, silencing her babbling with a long, slow kiss, her tongue darting into Sam’s shocked mouth, her hand tangling in her short, black hair, pulling her closer.  “Don’t apologize,” she purrs, her breath hot over Sam’s ear.  “I’ve been waiting for you to do this.”

Sam shakes her head, thinking clearly becoming very difficult with Nel’s tongue tracing along the outside of her ear.  “Hold up a second.”  The asari backs off, but only slightly, the heat of her body highly distracting.  “Why were you waiting for me?  Wasn’t I here, available?”

“It might have seemed that way on the surface,” she smiles, and damn, she has such a pretty smile,  “But I think maybe you’ve been hung up on somebody else.  Somebody from the _Normandy_ perhaps?”

“No, I wasn’t,” she denies, perhaps a bit too quickly, before pausing to think.  She’d never slept with anyone on the ship, but maybe Nel isn’t totally wrong.  There’d been so many amazing people there, some of them female people…  Okay, she’d had some crushes.  Shepard, sure, like half of everybody else, and Liara was so cute with her, and Ashley, even though she was totally straight, and EDI’s body might have been metal, but she had that voice, and…  She takes a deep breath and kisses Nelia on the lips again, softer and slower this time.  “It’s in the past.  I want you now.”

The asari’s hands start running over her blue shirt.  “And that’s why I waited for you to kiss me first.”

“I appreciate your patience.”  Sam traces her fingers over the smooth skin of Nelia’s crest.  It’s not quite like anything she’s ever felt before and she can’t stop herself from exploring all the little textures she finds, gliding over scales and tips. 

Nelia sighs happily at first, and then laughs.  “Having fun?”

Sam blushes.  “Sorry, I’m usually much smoother than this.”

“You’re doing fine.”  Nelia’s slim, teal fingers start to run underneath the swell of her breasts and Sam moans, but when the asari starts to unbutton her blouse, she stops her.

“Wait.  Not here.”

“Why not?”  Nelia’s tongue runs up her neck.  “It’s not like we’re going to get in trouble for doing it in the office.  It’s our company, silly.”

“I know.”  It’s hard to breath normally let alone make coherent arguments right now, but she forces herself to try.  “I really like you, Nel.  I don’t want our first time to be a quickie on the conference table.  I want a big bed where we can take our time and where,” she adds hesitantly, “You can stay the night if you want.”

With a final kiss on her earlobe, the asari pulls away.  “Deal.  I like you too, Sam.  Just one condition though: we’re taking a cab.  I intended to distract you all the way back to your apartment.”

 

No sooner does the taxi door close behind them when Nelia starts making good on her promise, running her hand up and down Sam’s leg.  “340 Spearbird Street,” the human gasps out as nimble fingers start to move perilously far above her knee.

“Uh, sure,” the purple-skinned asari driving the cab acknowledges before looking in the rear-view mirror, drawn by the chocked sound of Sam’s voice.  Nel’s hand darts back off her leg, but as soon as the driver returns her gaze to the sky-way, it starts caressing her again.  Her business partner leans over to give her a kiss, but when her fingers make their way further up her thigh, she starts suspecting it’s just a convenient way to muffle her cries.  Sam moans softly into Nel’s mouth, and when a finger presses against her through her underwear, it almost becomes a scream.

Feeling Sam’s lust spike, Nelia backs off, leaving the human panting.  “You play dirty,” the human whispers raggedly.

“You have no idea.”  The driver flashes them a disapproving glare and Nel returns her that playful smile she has, the one that helped convince her to leave a nice, safe job at Stellar Integration and start their own company together.  “We’ll be good,” Nel promises, and the driver shakes her head, muttering something about horny maidens.

 

Good turns out to mean touching Sam just enough to keep her on the edge of madness without pushing her over, and by the time the cab lands in front of their building, the human feels about 10 seconds from exploding from the tightly-coiled lust trying to burst out of her.

Making sure to leave a generous tip, Sam practically pulls her partner out of the cab and through the entrance to her building.  The elevator can’t come fast enough, and as it’s doors open, she grabs the asari’s head and pulls her into it, pressing her tongue into her mouth.  “Bloody hell,” she growls when she breaks the kiss, her earlier uncertainly overwhelmed by desire, “What were you trying to do to me?”

Nel parries the verbal stroke deftly.  “You were the one who wanted to come back here.  I got impatient.”

Under the circumstances, Sam can’t stay mad.  Her hand cups a breast through the silky fabric of Nel’s green blouse.  The asari bites her lip and Sam grins at the reaction.  “Now I’m impatient too.”

Her fingers start unbuttoning the irritating garment and by the time the elevator opens on her floor, the lacy white bra beneath it is tantalizingly visible.  Thankfully, there’s no one else in the hallway, and as they drag each other into Sam’s apartment, the lights flicker on automatically. 

Normally, she’d be ashamed of the mess on the floor, housekeeping having fallen by the wayside as she tried to finish their proposal, but right now, she couldn’t give less of a damn.  Sam pulls Nelia’s shirt open the rest of the way before unhooking her bra.  She’s seen plenty of naked asari on the extranet, but this is first time she’s gotten the chance up close and personal.  Nel’s breasts are a little bit scaled and so soft to Sam’s touch, and when her eager palms cup them, the nipples are already hard little points pressing against her skin.

Nel’s back arches and she tilts her head, exposing her long neck for Sam to kiss.  As the asari’s knees start to buckle beneath her, the former Alliance Specialist reluctantly pulls one hand off of her breast, wrapping it around her crest.  This time there’s no tentative exploration, her fingers enthusiastically massaging the folds.  Nelia moans into her ear and Sam feels a need building between her legs.  She really wants to make a good impression here and the response she’s eliciting is seriously turning her on.

When she slides her other hand up Nelia’s skirt, the skin along the asari’s inner thigh is somehow even smoother than the rest of her body, but when she brushes against lacy silk panties, she pauses.  “Wait, were you planning this all along, or do you always wear these?”

The asari takes advantage of the pause in her attentions to start unbuttoning Sam’s shirt.  “I might have hoped we’d have some good news to celebrate.”

Samantha puts on a little pout.  “So I was just a pawn in your little game of seduction?”

“Do you mind?”, Nel asks with a grin as she unhooks Sam’s black bra.

“Not at…” Her words are stopped in their tracks as the asari takes a pert, tan breast in her mouth.  She has the most remarkably agile tongue and as it traces little circles over her brown nipple, Sam feels her need for more overwhelming her.  Her hand pushes aside the damp silk and beneath it she finds the prominent head of Nel’s clit with no trouble.

“That’s almost too easy,” she laughs, amused by the lack of challenge compared with a human woman, but Nelia doesn’t seem to be sympathizing with her competitive nature, instead clutching her shoulders and pressing her lips against her neck.  Two fingers slide inside the asari’s soaked sex while her palm rubs the clit and when Nelia bites down, Sam can’t bring herself to care about the mark it’s going to leave.

She caresses the inner walls, feeling them throb around her, and when Nel looks up at her, her pretty green eyes are turning black.  It’s a little disconcerting, but then there’s a pressing against her mind, and she forgets all about what she’s seeing.  “Oh!  Oh hell!”, is all she can manage, her confidence vanishing in the face of this unexpected sensation.

“It’s okay.”  Nel cups her cheek in her hand.  “Relax and embrace eternity.”

Samantha takes a deep breath and does her best to let down her barriers.  What comes next is like nothing she’s ever experienced before.   She can still feel Nel wet and tight around her hand, but at the same time, it’s almost as if the fingers are inside her, stretching her as well.

Alongside the physical sensations, she can sense another voice in her head.  It’s like the one that tells you not to spend so many credits on that loofah or that that was a great Kepesh-Yakshi move, but it’s not hers, it’s Nel’s.

“You okay, cutie?”, her new lover asks affectionately, obviously more accustomed to this than she is.

“Yeah,” she replies, realizing that as soon as she thinks the words, the asari can hear them.  “It’s just, I’ve never done this before, I mean the thing with your mind, not the thing with my fingers, and it’s really incredible, and now I see why Shepard liked being with Liara quite so much, and oh, god, did I just talk about them while we’re…”

“Breath, Sam.”  She can feel comfort and reassurance radiating from Nel.  “It’s normal to have stray thoughts float around during a meld, especially when you’re not used to it.”

“Oh, okay, good.  Because I really do want to be with you.”

“I know, silly.  I can feel what you’re feeling.  Now, let’s go to that bed you wanted to get to so much.”

Sam withdraws her fingers, a weird, sympathetic loss making her own body shudder but then Nelia grabs her hand, kissing the wet tips, and she’s not sure she has any more breath left to lose.  The human leads her to the bedroom and they tumble onto the bed entwined body and mind.  Sam just has to have more of that incredible skin, removing the asari’s skirt and panties even as she’s doing the same, unfastening Sam’s belt and yanking off her pants, underwear, and socks with swift, sure motions.

Nel pulls Sam on top of her, and she’s having trouble telling where her body ends and her new lover’s begins.  There’s just the two of them, their skin melting together, the desire enough to drive her crazy.  Her fingers slid back into Nelia, and Nel’s into her, and there’s this incredible thing going on where when she thrusts, she knows if she’s hit the right spots.  And then she thinks that Nel really should stroke her thumb over her clit and she just does it exactly the way Sam needs, and god that feels so good.

Somebody cries out, and she thinks it’s Nel, but really it might be her too, and it’s hard to say because they’re both feeling it together.  Nel pulls her closer, and that incredible tongue is on her ear, and her hand is playing with a teal breast and her nipple’s throbbing like it was being touched too.  She feels like she’s unraveling, and all she wants is to come, wants it like she never has before, because this time there’s all of this extra wanting that they’re sharing.

“Goddess, Sam, now.”  Those words are the last thing she needs and Sam’s brain goes into overload, the vestiges of rational thought vanishing into a sea of bliss.  Nel’s coming too, or they’re both coming together, because that’s more what it feels like, and then they’re one big mass of singing nerves, and it’s just ahhhhhh.

 

It’s over and Sam collapses bonelessly on top of the asari.  Even though Nel’s not inside her mind anymore, she still feels so connected, kissing her collarbone while her lover runs her fingers through her hair.  “So,” she asks playfully, “Did your first time with an asari live up to your expectations?”

“Bloody hell, yes,” she pants out,  “That was incredible.  What about you?  Was that your first time with a human?”

Nel grins mischievously.  “Well, there was this one time I met a blonde Spectre in a bar on Illium and one thing led to another...”  Sam’s brown eyes go as big as dinner plates before she realizes the asari must be kidding, and Nel laughs.  “Nah, you’re my first human.”  She’s quiet for a moment, her train of thought ending up at an unusual stop.  “I did once get propositioned by an elcor though.”

“An elcor?”  The visual is just too weird for Sam to imagine.

“You know asari can be attractive to all kinds of other species.  Still, that guy wasn’t very smooth.”  She deepens her voice.  “With great interest: I would like to see you without your clothes on.”  Nel laughs that high happy laugh and Sam feels her heart melt when she adds,  “I’d much rather have you.”

Sam kisses the warm, squirming asari beneath her all over her adorable face.  “You can have me for as long as you want.”

“Glad to hear it,” Nelia runs an arm down her body, giving her ass a playful squeeze, “Because there’s a lot more having I want to do before we go back to work.”


	7. After Action Report

“Is there anything else that you wish to add to your report, Captain Williams?”  Councilor Vorus’ tone is measured and even, suggesting neither approval or disapproval on the part of the stoic turian.

“No, Councilor,” she assures him.  She doesn’t like the councilor, but she respects that he’s straight-forward, at least for a politician.  “I believe that you have the complete picture.”

The same can’t be said for Councilor Valern.  The old salarian’s failing health has done nothing to improve his temper and he acts as if casting aspersions on others will divert attention from his own government’s questionable actions during the Reaper War.  “So, you are telling us,” he complains, “That you felt no need to inform this Council that you were in essence fighting a war with the leviathans.”

“I though that the Council preferred not to become involved with the details of Spectre operations,” she replies coldly, throwing one of this bunch’s favorite dodges back in Valern’s face.

“Normally that is correct,” Vorus says calmly, “But on a matter of this importance, you can see why it might have been prudent to have kept us apprised of the situation.”

“Think of this as chance to practice,” she tells herself.  Since taking command of the _Normandy_ , she’s tried to blunt her habit of always saying what’s on her mind, no matter how much she may want to unleash her frustrations sometimes.  “Commander Shepard felt that it was unwise to tell any more people than we had to.  She and Doctor T’Soni had already discovered that the leviathans had sleeper agents and they couldn’t be sure that the Council itself wasn’t compromised.”

Valern’s reply is skeptical, mocking even.  “But she was certain they hadn’t gotten to you?”

“The commander knew those things would’ve had to shoot me before I’d give in to them.”  Her sarcastic side momentarily gains the upper hand.  “She may have been less sure about politicians.”

“Shepard,” the salarian responds, deliberately omitting her old title, “Is no longer a Council Spectre.  Do you think it’s appropriate to make operational decisions of this magnitude just because she asked you to?”

“I’d gladly shoot you if she asked me to,” she thinks.  Ashley never could stand political bullshit, and though Spectres usually are above such concerns, these occasional chats with the Council are among her least favorite parts of the job. 

Fortunately, Councilor Bakara is there to lend her a hand before she can get herself in more trouble.  The female krogan has proven to be a natural diplomat and certainly is a friend to the crew of the _Normandy_.  “Valern,” Eve chides, “Commander Shepard’s wisdom is well-known, and she has saved all of our lives, yours included.  And in any event, the Council was not left uninformed.  I was aware of Captain Williams’ operations, which involved significant krogan forces.”

“And you did not see fit to tell the rest of us about this?”, Valern fumes.  “Totally unacceptable.”

“The only thing that’s unacceptable is your disparaging a fine Spectre and the work that she did,” Councilor Weng snaps.  The former Alliance captain was involved in some of the worst fighting of the Reaper War.  His cruiser had been shot down while defending civilian ships fleeing Earth and he spent the rest of the war leading a resistance organization on Earth.  Weng has little patience for those who hadn’t given their all at that time, a list that includes the salarian councilor.

Tevos, ever the peace-maker, tries to split the difference.  “While I agree that Spectre Williams’ actions were unconventional, these were unconventional circumstances that she was facing.  Let us just be thankful that everything turned out well and that the problem has been dealt with.”

“I think that would be for the best,” Vorus agrees.  Valern, sensing the lack of support for his tirade, nods unhappily as well.

“If that’s all, councilors.”  Ashey hopes she doesn’t sound too impatient, but she’s had just about as much as she can take right now.  Thankfully, they dismiss her with a final expression of gratitude from Weng and a request from Eve to pass on her regards to Shepard, and Ashley is on her way to somewhere else she’d much rather be.

           

The space station she’s walking through has a long, boring, bureaucratic designation.  It begins with, “The Shared Galactic Something or Other,” and it’s the kind of thing you end up with when five Council races have to agree on a name that doesn’t piss anyone off.  Pretty much everyone other than them just calls it the Hub.

The repairs have started on the Citadel, but given the mess the Reapers and the  Crucible made of it, it will be years before it’s fit for habitation, and that assumes the Council even wants to relocate back there.  Between the tragedies it’s associated with and that fact that it’s now in the Sol System, that’s very much in doubt, leaving the Hub to take its place as the center of galactic politics.

As of yet, the new station doesn’t have anything like the luxuries the old Citadel offered, but the hotel she walks into is certainly nice enough for a grunt like her.  She could have just had Michael meet her back on the _Normandy_ of course, but right now, she could use a break from that ship.  Of course, she hadn’t made that decision without a certain amount of self-criticism.  After all, did Shepard get shore leave after Virmire?  Don’t be ridiculous.  Hell, the commander didn’t even get shore leave after coming back from the dead.

Still, when the door to her room opens and she sees Michael waiting for her, she is glad she made the call.  Her boyfriend’s tall, wiry frame is stretched out in an upholstered armchair reading a data pad, and when she comes in, he rises, pulling her into his arms and planting a passionate kiss on the Spectre.

Her plan had been to do a lot more than kiss when she got here.  It’s been almost two months since they’ve seen each other, and she could really stand to get laid, but her brain isn’t cooperating, still swimming in the events of the past few days.  Instead of tearing off their clothes, she pulls herself out of Michael’s arms and plops down on the bed in the middle of the room, kicking off her boots but not undressing any further.

“Hey, Ash.”  He doesn’t comment on her actions, but she can tell from his expression that he’s surprised.

“Michael.  God, it’s good to see you.”  She sounds more tired than she means to.  “Sorry I’m late, but the politicians needed to bitch a little before letting me go.”

“You okay?  You seem…”  He doesn’t finish the sentence, letting her read her own meaning into his observation.

“Nah, it was just the usual Council bullshit.”  She doesn’t volunteer more information.  She’s told him what her last mission was about, but not the messier details of its outcome.  She wonders what it says about her or their relationship that this was easier to talk about with Shepard.  She cares about Michael a great deal, but they haven’t been through all the tragedies she shared with the commander.

His dark eyes study her intently.  He’s no stranger to the pain of loss in battle and she feels like he can read it on her face.  “Something happened before, though.  With the leviathans.”

She turns away, picking up a room service menu and flipping through it.  “So, do you think the hotel restaurant actually knows how to make a decent Earth steak?’

 He snorts.  “Probably not.”  He sits back down in the armchair, giving her space.  “According to a krogan I met in the lobby, the roast beef is okay.”

The Spectre forces out a chuckle, thinking of Wrex’s prodigious appetite.  “Faint praise.”  She tosses aside the menu.  She’s not really even hungry.

“True.  Served with a krogan once.  He’d have eaten the table in a pinch.”

Ashley takes a deep breath.  She may not have the same history with her boyfriend as with her old squad-mates, but she’s not going to change that by being a coward.  “You’re right.  The mission got ugly.  Three people died on the ship and Shirat on the ground.  He got crushed right in front of me and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.”

Michael says nothing but instead moves out of the chair and joins her on the bed, clasping one of her hands in his.  He has the hands of the engineer he was before becoming a soldier, his fingers agile but his grip strong, and she squeezes back, trying to push the tension out her body.  “When Kaiden died, I felt like absolute shit that I was alive and he wasn’t, but I told myself that it was Shepard’s call.  I was a soldier.  I did my job and trusted that she knew what she was doing.  This time though, I was leading that team.  It was my failure.”

“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” he says softly, kissing her on the cheek, his stubble brushing against her face.

In spite of her grief, she laughs.  “Hey, that’s my thing, the poetry.  How’d you like it if I became the taciturn one all of a sudden?”

Michael shrugs.  “It’d be weird.”  He runs a hand through her long, black hair.  “Listen, I was never command.  I can’t tell you I know what it was like.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming here.”

He cracks a slight smile, but it fades quickly.  “When I left Cerberus, it wasn’t betraying the organization that was hard.  What they’d become didn’t merit anyone’s loyalty.  But turning on the people I served with...  When I gave the Alliance the location of the base, I knew what would happen to them.”

“I’m sorry.”  Someone else might say that those were members of Cerberus, terrorists serving an evil cause who got what was coming to them.  Ashley’s not that person.  All of that may be true, hell it probably is in most of their cases, but she’s been a soldier too long to think that meant a damn to Michael.  These were his comrades, the people he’d fought and bled beside, and that came before anything else.  Hell, she’s served with her fair share of assholes, perhaps none more memorably jerk-ish than Javik, but she knows it’d hit her hard if the prothean died, let alone if she was responsible for it. 

“Were you there when the Alliance attacked?”, she asks quietly.

“No.  It was another unit that got the job; I’d already been assigned to Sur’kesh by then.  Never even found out who survived.  But it had to be done.  And so did this.”

Ashley wraps an arm around her lover.  “That’s what I’ve been telling myself.  Sometimes it helps more, sometimes less.”

He replies simply, “It’s what there is.  I know you did your best.”

“I just keep wondering though, was that good enough?  Could Shepard have done more if she’d been there instead of me?”

A rare, wry grin crosses his face.  “You know, when I was with that N-7 unit on Sur’kesh, we used to tell Shepard stories at night.”

“Shepard stories?  About her missions?”

“At first, yeah, but over time, they started getting more and more ridiculous.  You know the type: ‘Shepard beat a hundred geth to death with a stuffed varren.’  ‘Shepard took down a Reaper with a Carnifax.’  ‘Shepard gets asari prostitutes to pay her to sleep with them.’”

That last one elicits a smile from Ashley.  As long as she’s known Shepard and Liara, it’s actually easier to picture her old commander doing the first two.  “What’s your point, Michael?”, she asks.

“That even Commander Shepard can’t live up to what we expected of her sometimes.  She lost people.  She had set-backs.  So give yourself a break.” 

“I’ll try,”  Shepard had told her something similar back on Ondren, but it’s good to hear from someone else.  “Right now though,” she smiles, “I need you to give me something else.”

He raises an eyebrow suggestively.  “And what might that be?”

“Oh, you’re a pretty smart guy,” she laughs, pulling him down with her onto the pillows.  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”


	8. One More Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This reaches way back, to chapter 2 of What Was Saved. The first part is set before it, the second afterwards, and I have in fact included a tweaked bit of that chapter here for convenience sake and because the story flows better that way.

For what feels like the hundredth time in the last few days, Liara plays the message.

“Shepard?  Commander?”  Hackett’s sounds worried, not just for the Spectre, but for the fleet that’s being destroyed by the Reapers, for the whole galaxy.

“I… uh… what do you need me to do?”  She can hear the pain behind each word that Ashara forces out, the hurt echoing like a knife in her own gut.

“Nothing’s happening.  The Crucible’s not firing.  It’s got to be something on your end.”  In the background, Liara hears Shepard stumble, groaning in pain as Hackett cries out,  “Commander Shepard!”

“I don’t’ see…  Not sure how to…”  Goddess, she’s never heard Shepard like this before: weak, confused, reeling, her body betraying her even as she refuses to give up.

“Commander!”

With Hackett’s final shout of dismay, the recording ends, leaving Liara’s eyes full of tears.  Those are the last words anyone heard from Ashara Shepard before the Crucible fired, the last words that Liara will probably ever…

A sob wracks the asari’s body and she turns away from her terminal.  She knows that something else must have happened after that.  The Crucible did work.  The Reapers were destroyed.  In spite of the confusion and pain that Liara hears in the recording, Shepard found a way to finish her mission.  And so Liara listens to the message that Hackett sent her over and over again, trying to find some clue as to what it was that happened, some reason not to lose hope.  Instead, it just breaks her heart anew each time without leaving the asari any closer to the truth.

Her alternative sources of information are severely limited.  The Shadow Broker network is useless for now.  Most galactic communications are based on the Mass Relay network and until it’s repaired, only the quantum entanglement communicators still function and they have not brought her peace.

When she and the rest of the crew first survived crashing on this world, Liara had been so full of hope.  The war was over and once they made their way back to Earth, she and Shepard could finally have the peace they had fought so long to win.  When the _Normandy_ made contact with the rest of fleet, though, those hopes had started to erode.  The relays were damaged and there had been a massive explosion aboard the Citadel.  The teams that went there afterwards had found no sign of Shepard, only a ruin filled with corpses and rubble.

And yet she could not give up hope.  Not after the countless times that Ashara had defied the odds to complete her missions and protect the galaxy.  Surely she had one more miracle in store, this one just for Liara.

Drying her eyes, the asari shrugs off the thin, red robe she had been wearing and begins donning her customary white and blue outfit.  There were moments when, as she changed, she could almost feel Shepard’s pale green eyes on her, admiring her bare skin.  Every time the door to her office opens, she half-expects to see Ashara standing there, come by to share a story and a kiss, to brighten her day no matter its troubles. 

As hard as it is to be here though, the alternative is worse.  She knows that if she tried to stay in Ashara’s cabin she would break down entirely, overwhelmed by all of the memories that they made there together.  She can’t afford that.  No matter what happened to her bondmate, this is Shepard’s crew, and Liara has a responsibility to them.

           

As she steps off of the elevator, Liara greets the dark-skinned human in front of her with a wane smile and her best attempt at a friendly, “Samantha.”  As socially awkward as Liara is, she hadn’t noticed the specialist’s romantic interest in her bondmate at first.  Shepard had though, but even after she pointed it out to Liara, the Shadow Broker couldn’t find it in her to dislike Ms. Traynor.  The woman had never made any inappropriate advances, and Liara can hardly blame someone else for finding Ashara attractive.  “Is there any word from Earth?”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Samantha replies sadly, knowing what it is that Liara’s really asking about.  “There’s no news on Shepard, just more updates on the relay repairs.”  This has become their ritual, the futile question, the apologetic answer.  The specialist may not be hurting the way that she is, but Liara knows she’s mourning as well.  The whole crew is.

Liara replies as she always does, “You will let me know if we do hear anything.”            

“Of course,” Sam assures her, but though the specialist tries to give Liara a comforting smile, the asari can see little optimism in her brown eyes.

When she takes her seat in the war room for their scheduled meeting, the rest of the senior staff is already waiting: Garrus, Tali, Doctor Chakwas, and Ashley, who as a Spectre has taken command of the _Normandy_ in Shepard’s absence.  Ashley just smiles in greeting, not chastising Liara for her lateness, but the Shadow Broker can see the concern everyone else in the room is feeling at her appearance.  She can’t blame them: underfed, under-slept, and only sporadically showering: she hardly looks her best.  It’s just so hard to make herself care. 

Mercifully, before anyone can comment on it though, Ashley starts the meeting.  “All right everyone, I need status reports.  Tali, how are we doing with the repairs?”

“The _Normandy_ should be ready to go in a few days.  We’ve finished repairs on the primary stabilizers.  We’re still missing a few parts for the drive core, but I think I can patch something together that should hold until we get back to Earth.”

“You’re a miracle worker, Tali.  What about the relay?”

“I don’t know.  Some of the other ships have started surveying it.  The damage isn’t that bad, but we’ve never fixed one of those before.”

“All right” Ashley nods.  “I’ll get you the latest reports from Earth.  They’re making progress on the Sol Relay.  Maybe they can give us some tips.”  She turns to Garrus.  “What’s the supply situation?  Is the stream by the crash site going to work if we’re here for a while.”

“Yeah, it’s pure enough for us to drink.  A bunch of the plants are edible too, so you won’t starve.  We can’t replenish the dextro rations, but since it’s just Tali and me eating those, we should be okay for a few months.”

“Well, then let’s just hope it doesn’t take any longer than that.  Doctor, any new news on the medical front?”

“Lt. Donelly’s broken leg is almost healed, and he should be fit to return to duty tomorrow, which means we are back to full strength.”  She pauses.  “In theory.  It’s not the crew’s physical health that’s concerning me however.  We’ve all been pushed to our limits over the last few months, and now that the fighting is over, I think that the losses we’ve suffered are finally starting to hit everyone.  You know my concerns about Joker…”

“I do,” Ashley replies grimly.  If there’s anyone on the ship more distraught than Liara, it’s Joker.  He’s been with Shepard longer than anyone but the doctor, and combined with the death of EDI and the presumed loss of his family on Tiptree, he seems a shell of his former, sarcastic self.  “I’ve tried getting him to take a break.  I mean, we hardly need a pilot right now, but he still just sits in that chair all day.”  Wishing that EDI was there next to him, Liara thinks.

“It is not just him though,” the doctor continues.  “Everyone has lost people in this war.  And especially with Shepard gone, they need closure.”

“No,” Liara interrupts, furious at the doctor’s implication.  “You cannot mean… We cannot put her name up on that wall.”

“Liara,” Garrus says calmly, “I don’t want to think the worst either, but it’s been days with no word from her.  We know from that recording that Shepard was badly hurt and then there was the explosion on the Citadel…  We have to be realistic about the odds.”

“How can you say that Garrus?!”, she demands, tears filling her eyes.  “She was your friend.  All of your friends.  How can you just…”  Unable to continue, she buries her face in her hands, choking down the river of hurt and doubt that she’s feeling.

“Everybody else out,” Ashley orders, the strong timbre she’ll need if she’s going to command the _Normandy_ clear in her voice.  As the room empties, the Spectre sits down in the chair next to Liara’s and puts her arm around her shoulder.  She’s not Shepard but the strength in her embrace and the human smell of the woman reminds Liara of her lost love and it’s all she can do to speak again.

“I am so sorry, Ashley,” she manages, “I didn’t mean to make a spectacle of myself.”

“Don’t worry about it.”  Ashley pats her back affectionately.  “I can’t believe that she’s gone either.  She taught me so much.  Before I met her, I was just a dumb grunt stuck in a dead end posting…”

“We don’t know that she is dead,” Liara insists.  “I know that things look bad but they have before.  Perhaps she is just injured, waiting for someone to find her.”  For a wild moment, she pictures herself and Ashara joking together about this.  They will sit together in her cabin, Liara’s head in her bondmate’s lap, and laugh that people thought that Commander Shepard could die so easily.  Despite herself, Liara’s eyes are starting to tear up again.  Even she has to admit that it sounds implausible.

Ashley shakes her head sadly.  “Until I know this sure uncertainty, I’ll entertain the offered fallacy.”

“I’m not sure what that means,” Liara queries.  Sometimes, Ashley’s quotations tax the ability of her translator to make sense of them.

“It means that you may feel that way, but I can’t count on it being true.  The skipper meant so much to all of us.  I know it’s got to be worse for you than anyone else, but I have to think about the rest of the crew.  It’s going to be a lot of hard work to get back home, and they need to grieve and move on, not be stuck like this.  We already put EDI up there, but Shepard and Anderson… We can’t keep waiting and hoping.”

Liara’s shoulders slump, her anger replaced with a bone-deep weariness.  She’s still  not convinced there’s no chance Ashara is alive, but she can’t argue with Ashley’s logic.  “I will do it then.”

“Liara, you don’t have to,” Ashley offers.  “I’m the captain now.  It’s my responsibility.”

“No, Ashley, it has to be me.  She was my bondmate.”  The thought pains her more than she can say, but she has to do this one last thing for Ashara and for her crew.  Her voice does not shake as she says, “I will prepare the nameplates.”

 

Liara sits in front of her console, brushing the tears from her eyes as she forces herself to look at the names in front of her.  Anderson had been a good man, but it’s Shepard, her Shepard, that she still can’t believe is gone and putting her up on the wall feels like a surrender of what little hope she has left. 

Lost in her grief, she barely notices as her terminal starts beeping, and when she finally answers, her voice is tight.  “Samantha, what is it?”

Samantha sounds uncomfortable to have interrupted Liara.  She knows that the ceremony is due to start soon.  “Miranda Lawson says she needs to talk to you.”

“Tell her that this is not really the best time.”  The former operative may have been Shepard’s friend, but Liara barely knows her and she isn’t up to talking to the woman right now.

“She said... she said you would want the call.”

“Very well.”  Shepard.  It has to be about Shepard.  As Miranda’s voice crackles into existence, the asari finds herself terrified to hear what will come next.

“Liara.” Miranda’s voice is superficially as measured as always, but beneath the surface, the information broker can hear a slight undercurrent of emotion.  “I thought you should be the first one to hear this.  We found Shepard.”

Liara gasps.  She feels light-headed, like there’s not enough air in the room, but then Miranda continues, “She’s alive.  She’s pretty badly injured, but we’ve stabilized her.  She’s going to make it.”

In that moment, Liara’s overwhelmed as the tiny bit of hope that had been left inside her suddenly expands, filling her whole being.  She tries to reply, but as questions, gratitude, and happiness all try to get out at the same time, the best that she can manage is a stammer.  Miranda just waits, saying nothing while Liara steadies herself, and after a minute, the asari’s mind is able to form a somewhat coherent question.

“How, how bad is it?”

“Not as dire as last time but still serious.  Some fractures, moderate burns, a fair amount of blood loss… she’s not conscious now and it’ll be a while before she’s up and around, but fortunately there isn’t anything that shouldn’t heal eventually.”

“How long?”

“Physically, a few weeks perhaps.  As for waking up, it’s harder to say.  There’s no evidence of significant neurological damage, but these things are hard to assess, especially with all of the Prothean modifications she’s had, and nobody knows quite what happened to her on the Citadel.”

“I see.”  She manages to restore some vague calm to her voice.  “Please send me copies of all of her medical records.”

“Of course, Liara.  And don’t worry; I’ll take excellent care of her.”

Unlike the last time Miranda said something like this, when Liara gave her Shepard’s body three years ago, she trusts the brunette to keep her promise.  “Thank you, Miranda.  I should allow you to get back to work.”

Once she’s off the line, the calm front that Liara had mustered collapses.  As she falls on the small bed in her quarters, all of the emotion she’s been trying with limited success to keep inside herself over the last few days comes pouring out, tears of relief flowing freely down her face.  To have come so close, again, to losing Ashara and now to know that she’s alive… for several minutes, she doesn’t even try to do anything else; she just lets herself have this moment.

She’s not sure how much time passes before she gets up, but when she does, she dries her eyes and calms her thoughts.  This isn’t over; there is a great deal of work to be done before she can get home, and Shepard needs her to stay focused.  First, though, the crew will have to be informed.  Going back to her terminal, she calls Samantha and tells her that she’s ready for the ceremony.

 

Liara stands in front of the memorial wall, looking at Admiral Anderson’s name resting in its center.  It’s fitting, she thinks.  Anderson had been the first captain of the first _Normandy_ , and now he will be the last name memorialized here on the second one.  She steps forward and her gaze turns down to the nameplate in her hands. 

“Commander Shepard.”  Not Ashara.  Just Commander Shepard.  That’s how the galaxy will remember her.  But her bondmate isn’t going into the history books just yet.  Her eyes moisten at the thought of just how close she had come to giving up hope, but then she lets a small smile appear on her dark blue lips and she turns to face the rest of the crew, Shepard’s crew.

Garrus says gently, “I can do it.”

“Thank you, Garrus but there is no need.  Shepard is alive.”

Everyone else stares at her and from their expressions, she can tell that some of them think that she’s gone mad with grief, but then Samantha speaks up.  “There was a call earlier.  From Miranda Lawson.”

“She told me that they have found Shepard,” Liara explains, “She is injured, but she is going to survive.”

There was more she had thought to say, but when the crew hears those words, it’s pandemonium.  Ashley throws her arms around Liara, Garrus and Tali are hugging each other, Sam and Doctor Chakwas… everyone seems caught up in the moment.  Even Javik looks pleased, a small smile appearing on his grey lips.  Only Joker holds back, his grief too deep to be fixed by this blessing.

Somewhere in the celebration, Garrus finds her, the turian looking as if an immense weight has been lifted from his shoulders.  “I’m sorry, Liara,” he says, “About what I said before.  I shouldn’t have given up hope.”

“Do not blame yourself.  It wasn’t reasonable to think that she was alive.”

“I still should have known better,” laughs, his mandibles twitching with good humor.  “When did reasonable ever stop Shepard?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashley's quote comes from Shakespeare's The Comedy of Errors.


	9. A Little Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for this one, I’m reaching all the way back, before 4th Life, before even any of the Other Side stories. I spend so much time writing Ashara and Liara as an established couple that I thought it would be fun to see them before they were together. I hope you enjoy it.

Ashara Shepard has a crush. It’s hardly the first one –that would have been Sarah Jessup back in junior high on Mindoir, –but it is the first one she’s ever had on an asari, at least if you don’t count the detective on “Citadel Investigations.”

Sure, like pretty much every red-blooded woman of the Sapphic persuasion, Shepard’s intrigued by the asari. An entire race of beautiful women who don’t care about your gender? Sometimes, the whole species seems like it was dreamed up by a frustrated lesbian who got tired of finding out that the girl she was crushing on was straight -much as Sarah had regrettably proved to be. Still, while Shepard has met her fair share of asari since she joined the Alliance, she’s never encountered one who affects her quite like this.

Liara T’Soni has little in common with the stereotypes about her species. Most people think of the asari as ancient, graceful creatures, keepers of the wisdom of the centuries and no doubt masters of sexual secrets beyond human ken. Liara by contrast is shy and socially awkward, hardly the alien temptress portrayed in the vids. She’s also beyond cute, incredibly smart, and a hell of a lot braver and tougher than Ashara would have expected from an archeologist.

All of which has left that same archeologist lodged firmly in the front of Ashara’s mind. Eating her breakfast, riding the in the shuttle, taking a shower… Liara seems to creep into her thoughts more and more often. Imagining what it would be like to kiss those soft lips, picturing what lies beneath that jumpsuit, fantasizing about what it would be like to make love with their minds joined together…

“I hope I’m not interrupting something important, Commander.” She’s shaken out of her increasingly naughty thoughts by Doctor Chakwas setting her tray down next to her in the mess hall. “You seem distracted.”

“I’m fine, Doctor. Just daydreaming. I do have a few minutes before my shift starts after all.”

Chakwas gives her a wry look. “Daydreaming? About a certain asari scientist perhaps?”

Ashara hopes she’s not blushing too brightly right then. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you do stop by to visit her quite often.”

“I like to make sure things are going well with everyone in my crew,” Shepard protests. It’s even the truth, sort of. She may care about everyone aboard the _Normandy_ , but that doesn’t mean she spends her free time thinking about kissing the rest of them.

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t explain the grin you generally have on your face when you leave Liara’s room.”

Now Shepard’s sure she’s turning red. “Am I that obvious?”

“Oh, don’t look so embarrassed about it.” Doctor Chakwas smiles indulgently, looking very much like she’s Shepard’s kindly grandmother. “She is certainly quite pretty.”

"She is that,” Shepard admits, “But she’s also part of my crew. I’m not sure it’s appropriate.”

“Technically, commander, she is a friendly alien accompanying us on our mission,” Doctor Chakwas tells her. “But I know what you mean and I trust that you wouldn’t do anything to make her uncomfortable. Besides, you are under a tremendous, almost unique amount of pressure right now. I know you like to pretend that it doesn’t get to you, but having something more pleasant than the next battle on your mind may be just what the doctor ordered.”

 

Liara T’Soni isn’t accustomed to having crushes. Back when she was a student, she found all of the flirting and mooning over each other that so many of the other maidens indulged in cringe inducing. There were serious things to do, books that needed reading and papers that needed writing, while all some of her classmates wanted to do was kiss in the stairwells.

Now, though, she’s as bad as any of those doe-eyed old classmates of hers. Here she is on a mission to save the entire galaxy from the same ancient machines that apparently destroyed the protheans, and she’s spending what feels like half her time fantasizing about an Alliance commander.

There’s just something about Shepard though, a magnetic quality isn’t quite like anything she’s encountered before. When the commander first rescued Liara from the prothean stasis field on Therum, she’d been so kind, reassuring the frightened archeologist that she wasn’t there to hurt her, despite the suspicions of some of her crew that she might be working for Saren. When that krogan had attacked them, though, the Spectre had suddenly turned fearsome, ripping his forces apart with her biotics and weapons even after her comrades had been temporarily disabled.

Weakened by her confinement, Liara had been unable to do more than just watch the battle, and ever since, she hasn’t been able to take her eyes off of the commander. Every time Shepard comes down to visit her in her little room behind the med-lab, Liara feels like a babbling idiot, her stomach tying itself in knots as she tries to avoid embarrassing herself, but as soon as Shepard leaves, she can’t wait for their next talk.

Liara shakes her head. She’s supposed to be reviewing old notes on the protheans, looking for further clues as to the location or purpose of the Conduit, not daydreaming about a human, no matter how attractive she might be. Still, in her own defense, it’s been some time since she pulled herself out of her own head and got something to eat, and the asari finds that her thoughts wander more when she’s hungry.

 

Doctor Chakwas has already gone back to her duties and Shepard’s just finishing up her lunch when she hears a soft voice ask, “Do you mind if I join you?”

Looking up, she finds herself starring into Doctor T’Soni’s lovely blue eyes. “Of course,” she responds a little too quickly, trying to avoid revealing the way her heart fluttered a little when she saw the archeologist standing in front of her.

Liara sets her tray down across from the Spectre’s table, and sits down in the hard metal mess chair. As soon as she saw Shepard in the dining hall, she’d wanted to sit with her, but now she’s having trouble thinking of something to say and she digs into her food in an effort to cover her nervousness. The Alliance ship cuisine isn’t particularly good, but Liara’s hungry enough not to care about the blandness or spongy texture of this tofu, whatever it’s made of.

Shepard can tell the asari is nervous. It can’t be easy to go from a dig site to an Alliance warship and she wants to put her at ease. “It’s good to see you,” she says brightly before noticing the archeologist’s appearance. “Are you sleeping okay, Liara? You look a little frazzled.” Still definitely cute, Ashara adds to herself, but the asari does seem like she could use a bit more rest. “I know the room we’ve got you set up in is a little small, but it’s the best I could come up with.”

“No, my accommodations are more than sufficient,” she assures Shepard, suddenly self-conscious about her appearance, “In truth, I’m used to far less comfortable conditions on my archeological digs. I have just been working for some time without a break.”

“How’s the research going, anyway?”, Shepard asks. “Anything new to report on the Conduit?”

Liara wishes she had better news to give Shepard. “I am afraid not,” the asari admits without saying exactly what’s been distracting her from her work. “There are only rumors and indirect references; nothing concrete that can help us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Shepard tells her kindly, “But I’m sure you’re doing all you can.”

“I, I am,” Liara stammers, temporarily distracted by Shepard’s smile. It reaches all the way up her face, right to her pale green eyes. It has a way of making the archeologist feel like she’s the most important person in the whole galaxy, and a part of her hopes that Shepard only smiles that way for her.

“Well, maybe we’ll find something on Feros that will help make sense of the rumors,” Shepard offers, finishing off her rubbery pudding. “We should be there by tomorrow.” God, Liara’s so adorable when she’s nervous. There’s something about her that makes Shepard want to just take the archeologist into her arms and reassure her that everything’s going to be okay.

“We can hope so,” Liara replies, suddenly noticing that Shepard has eaten the last of her food. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly, “I did not realize you were almost finished when I sat down. I should let you get back to your duties.”

Damn it, Ashara really wishes she had some more food so she’d have an excuse to keep this conversation going. “Don’t worry about it, Liara. It was nice to see you.”

Shepard stands up from the table and without thinking, Liara blurts out, “Shepard, wait…” The Spectre halts. There’s something urgent in the asari’s voice and Ashara feels a surge of non-specific hope.

As Shepard pauses, Liara comes to the horrifying realization that she has no idea what to say. She’d just reacted on instinct, not wanting the commander to leave, and the only thing she can come up with is, “Have a good shift.”

Her heart sinks, and Shepard quickly responds, “You too,” momentarily forgetting that the archeologist isn’t going on duty just then. “I mean, when you have your next one,” she adds, trying to cover her mistake, “Until then, try to get some sleep. I need everyone at their best on this mission.”

 

As Ashara rides the slow elevator up to the bridge, she shakes her head, chiding herself for her own overactive imagination. What exactly did she think Liara was about to tell her there? Was it really likely that she was about to say, “Instead of going on duty, how about you take me to your quarters and we spend the rest of the day embracing eternity”?

Sure, the asari gets flustered around her, but she’s that doesn’t mean she’s looking to jump into bed with Ashara. Maybe she likes Shepard that way, maybe she doesn’t, but either way, Ashara has to let the archeologist make her own choices. The asari may not be Alliance, but Shepard is still in a position of power over her and she can’t put inappropriate pressure on Liara just because the commander gets wet thinking about her. She’ll just have to hope the asari says something and in the meantime, not let the wondering make her crazy. A little crush is all well and good, but she still has a job to do.

 

Watching Shepard walk towards the lift, Liara curses at herself. “Have a good shift”? What had she been thinking? Shepard must think she’s a babbling idiot. The commander seems so worldly and experienced, and Liara wishes desperately she could come off as half so confidant. All it takes is a little smile or a friendly word from Shepard, and Liara dissolves into a gooey, hopeful mess.

Sometimes, she’s certain that those gestures mean everything, and other times, when she sees Shepard’s kindness towards another member of her crew or some poor civilian with a problem for her to solve, the archeologist feels like a fool for getting her hopes up. As long as you aren’t a Geth or a hostile merc, Shepard seems to have a kind word for everyone and surely, Liara is reading too much into a few smiles.

Or perhaps not. She just isn’t sure, and suddenly, the archeologist finds herself wishing she’d spent more time learning the subtleties of flirting. She can’t figure out the signals, which means that if she wants to find out if she’s the only one with a little crush, she’s going to have to find the courage to ask.


	10. Sleepless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a slice of life showing Ashara’s state of mind early in Mass Effect 2. I like Mordin and don't get enough chances to write him.

In spite of its comfort, the new bed doesn’t feel right to Shepard. She had been a marine, and that meant she slept on a hard little mattress. It had been nearly 15 years since basic training, and if she hadn’t gotten used to that fact by the time she took over command of the _Normandy_ , she wouldn’t have been much of a soldier.

For one blissful month though, her old bed had been a problem. The night before Ilos, as lost in each other as they were, she and Liara hadn’t even noticed the size issue. After the first few times though, it was hard not to be annoyed at the contortions that were sometimes required when they made love, or the way they’d have to stay bunched up together in order to be able to share it afterwards.           

Now, Shepard has a nice big bed, and nothing to do it in but toss and turn. She hasn’t been sleeping well since Cerberus brought her back. She’s lost almost everything that used to define her life. Her ship, along with twenty members of her crew, were destroyed by the Collectors. She’s not an Alliance marine anymore. She’s working for a damned terrorist organization. And Liara’s gone. Every time Ashara wakes up and the archeologist isn’t there next to her, she feels that loss all over again.

Rolling over wearily, she looks into the glowing face of her alarm clock. 0430 Citadel Standard Time. Damn it. If it was earlier, she might try to get back to sleep in spite of her troubled thoughts, but at this point, it’s a lost cause. She has to be back on duty in 2 hours anyway.

Dragging herself out of bed, Ashara shrugs out of her pajamas and stumbles into the shower. The spacious facilities feel like another cruel reminder of what she’s lost. Back on the ship Shepard still thinks of as the real _Normandy_ , she and Liara had to use the communal showers after their nights together, hoping they didn’t smell too much like sex. Here, she’s got this lovely private bathroom to go with her big new bed and no one to share it with.

Getting out of the shower, she towels off and dresses, but as she pulls on her pants, she can’t keep her eyes off of the picture on Liara on her desk. Cerberus’ attitude towards the absent asari is a mystery to her. On the one hand, she can’t believe what the Illusive Man told her about Liara working for the Shadow Broker. Two years may have passed for the rest of the galaxy, but could the innocent archeologist she fell in love with really have changed that much? And yet, if Cerberus wants to keep her away from Liara, why did they leave Ashara this picture? She rubs her forehead, trying to set such thoughts aside. If she spends too much time obsessing about it, she’ll go crazy.

Of course, in the weeks since coming back, not obsessing hasn’t been going particularly well. Half of her free time she spends dreaming about Liara. The way she’d look at Ashara with those big, pretty blue eyes, their little talks behind the med-bay, the way Liara’s smooth skin felt under the Spectre’s fingers… there’s so much that she misses that it hurts sometimes.

At other times, Shepard’s mind goes to darker places. She knows her apparent death must have broken Liara’s heart. Has the asari gotten over it? Could she have met somebody else? Will she be angry when she finds out that Ashara is alive and working for Cerberus?

Shepard needs some air, or as close to it as she can get under the circumstances. A starship always has people around, but it’s quieter during the night-cycle. There’s only a skeleton crew on duty right now, so when she gets down to the command deck, she’s surprised to see Kelly Chambers at her post.

“Hello, Commander,” the yeoman says brightly, her perennially perky disposition unaffected by the hour, “You have new messages at your private terminal.”

“Thanks, Kelly.” She flips through the extranet mail. Junk, mostly. A few status updates on the ship, but they’re the exception. No matter how high-tech the computer system, that crap always seems to find its way through the firewalls. She laughs a little at one message from a dating service that promises to introduce her to the asari maiden of her dreams. Somehow, a mine on Therum probably isn’t what they have in mind for a meeting place.

Ashara shakes her head, trying to stay in the present. “So, why exactly are you up so early, yeoman?”

“Just getting a head start on the day, ma’am. There’s a lot to do with all the new people joining the crew. I’m still trying to figure out Jack.”

The red-head’s voice is cheerful, and Shepard smiles back at her. “I think we’re all trying to get a grip on that one, Kelly.” The commander’s still not sure what to make of the tattooed biotic. The woman clearly has no use for Cerberus, which could be helpful, but she also seems dangerously unstable. Wrex or Garrus might have had an angry side, but Shepard didn’t worry they were going to punch a hole in the ship because they had a bad day.

“Is that the only thing you’re trying to get a grip on, ma’am?” Kelly winks at her and Ashara tries not to blush. The yeoman’s attraction has been fairly clear since Shepard first came on board and under other circumstances, the commander might be tempted. Kelly is friendly, pretty, open… all things that she could use right now. She wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why the Illusive Man picked the woman for this job, but even if that’s the case, Ashara doubts Kelly knows she’s being used. She’s seldom met anyone who seems more guileless than Yeoman Chambers.

Shepard’s not interested in dating somebody else though. It may have been two years for the rest of the galaxy since she died, but for Ashara, it was only a few weeks ago that Liara was lying next to her in bed, the two of them imagining what their future might hold. She doesn’t know if the asari has moved on, but she hasn’t. Not by a long shot.

Laughing off Kelly’s comment, Shepard takes her leave of the yeoman. She thinks about going to see if Joker’s in the cock-pit; even when he isn’t on duty, the pilot frequently sleeps in his chair. She can’t bring herself to do it, though. When she first met up with Joker after she came back to life, she’d just been glad to see a familiar face.

Lately, though… He had his orders, he disobeyed them, and she ended up dead. She knows why he was reluctant to abandon the _Normandy_ , but it doesn’t change what happened and when she thinks about everything she’s lost, it’s hard not to blame him for it. Ashara doesn’t want the fight, and so for the time being, she’s just been avoiding her old pilot.

Instead, she heads back to the elevator, making her way to the starboard observation lounge. There’s plenty of bad she could say about Cerberus, but at least they have an aesthetic sense. The room offers a wonderful view of the stars and Ashara plops herself down on one of the couches and tries to clear her head.

When she was a girl, she used to love lying out in the fields on Mindoir, feeling the breeze on her skin and looking up into the night sky. She’d dream about what might be in each of those star systems, the things she would see when she went there, the adventures she’d have. Even though her road to those stars proved to be far darker than anything that naïve farm girl could’ve imagined, Ashara still loves the view.

“Hello, Commander.” Behind her, she hears the sound of footsteps alongside Mordin Solus’ voice. “Didn’t realize anyone else would be here.”

“Neither did I. What’s your excuse.”

“Data compiling. Had some time.”

“Well, take a seat.” She pats a cushion and Mordin joins her on the couch.

“Wanted to get out of lab. Been there 14 hours straight.”

She nods, impressed at his dedication. “And here I thought I worked hard.”

“Only sleep an hour a day. Leaves plenty of time for research.”

Ashara shakes her head. “Sadly, I on the other hand need more sleep than this. I’ve just been having trouble getting it recently.”

“What seems to be problem?”

She chuckles wearily. “I thought Kelly was supposed to be the ship’s therapist.”

“Did study psychiatry in school, but now, just asking as,” he pauses, choosing his final word carefully, “Comrade.” Ashara appreciates the offer. She hasn’t known the salarian long but in spite of his ruthless streak, she likes him. Between the Cerberus operatives, the mercenaries, and the borderline psychotics, he’s one of the few people in this new crew aside from Garrus she feels like she can trust and right now, she could use a sympathetic ear.

Ashara takes a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to explain her troubles. “So, you know how you told me you used to be with the Special Tasks Group, your people’s best and brightest, doing work you believed in? Does it bother you to be here instead, working for Cerberus? Because it bugs the hell out of me.”

Mordin throws up his hands in a non-committal gesture. “Certainly affiliation not ideal. But mission important. Collectors need to be stopped. Cerberus offers best chance to do that right now.”

“Why do you think I’m still here?,” she agrees. “My first thought was to take this ship and run it back to the Alliance as quickly as I could manage.”

“Why not do it?”

“When I talked to Anderson, I found out that neither the Alliance nor the Council was doing anything to prepare for the Reapers. For now Cerberus, is the only group that will give me the resources to do that.”

“Choice objectively correct, even if unsavory.”

“Even so.” She runs her fingers through her still-damp blonde hair. “It just doesn’t feel entirely right being here. There’s too many people I can’t trust. My crew, the ones I fought Saren with, they were my friends. There was even someone… Someone I loved.”

“Thought Alliance regulations forbade,” he pauses once more, “Fraternization.”

She nods. “They do, but she wasn’t Alliance. Liara T’Soni was an asari expert on the protheans who helped us to find the Conduit.”

“Ah, Doctor T’Soni. Heard name mentioned as part of crew. Read some of her papers after taking on this mission. Interesting work, though some theories on prothean extinction obviously contradicted by recent evidence.”

She shrugs. “I don’t think many people saw the Reapers coming. But yeah, she was really special and now I don’t even know where she is or what she’s doing.”

“No expert on alien relationships, but if worried about sexual fidelity, might find it comforting to know that asari less promiscuous than commonly believed.”

Ashara smiles at his clinical discussion of the situation. “Liara told me that once. She was very insistent about it too. She taught me so much about her people. There was so much I didn’t realize before I met her. You know, we were going to visit Thessia together, before I…” She pauses. It feels strange to say “died.” If she’d been dead, she couldn’t be here. Death was supposed to be a one-way trip.

She settles on, “Before the _Normandy_ was destroyed. Liara’s mother had died and she had to go back and settle her estate. I was trying to get some leave so I could go with her. The way she described the planet, it really sounded incredible.” She shakes her head at her own maudlin rambling. “Listen at me, going on like this to you. Your people don’t even date.”

“True,” Mordin agrees, “Can’t really understand romantic impulse. Am familiar with effect asari can have though. Very unusual feeling for salarian.”

In spite of herself Shepard laughs. “That must be one hell of a story.”

“Perhaps tell it another time, possibly after consumption of alcohol. Right now, tests should be finishing up. Need to check results. Work must come first.”

The salarian gets up to leave and Shepard returns her gaze to the window. Somewhere out there in that vast blackness is Liara, but Mordin is right. However much Ashara may love the archeologist, her work has to take priority. She’s not a damn school girl anymore. She’s still a Spectre, even if only by the thinnest of threads, and she has to hold it together for the sake of the galaxy. Fighting the Collectors may not warm her bed or help her sleep at night but right now, it’s what she has.


	11. Making the Rounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter focusing on Shepard’s recovery after the war, this one set in-between chapters 8 and 9 of What Was Saved and coming before chapter 3 of By Night. It's kind of a mirror of the previous one, with Shepard not sleeping well, but at a very different time.

She wishes it comes as a surprise when she wakes up in a cold sweat but the only difference between this and most of her nights is that she doesn’t remember the details of the dream, only its ending. A flash of light glimpsed through a ship window; just enough to let Ashara Shepard know which of the horrors from her past she’d been dreaming of.

Her heart racing, she looks across the bed at the beautiful asari lying next to her and when she breathes in her lover’s clean, warm scent, the Spectre’s body starts to settle down a little bit. With a silent smile, the commander brushes her fingers lightly over Liara’s cheek. Her bondmate doesn’t wake at the contact, but she does turn slightly, pressing her face against the commander’s fingers and purring contentedly.

Shepard kisses her bondmate gently on the forehead before rising from what is now their bed. She may not be sleeping well, but that’s no reason for Liara to suffer along with her. The asari has been so good to her, tending to her while she recovered from the injuries she sustained on the Citadel, and she doesn’t want to wake her up in the middle of the night again.

Her body is pretty much back to normal. Miranda’s skilled care and her own aptitude for quick recoveries allowed her to be declared fit for active duty only a week after she was released from the hospital. Her mind, on the other hand… She wishes she could be more together for Liara. The asari is still dealing with her own pain and the commander should be focused on helping her instead of wrestling with her dreams night after night.

Shepard runs her hands over her face, trying to brush away the residue of sleep. Her head isn’t a place she feels like spending any more time right now. She dresses quietly, careful not to wake her beloved as she slips into a pair of slacks and her N-7 sweatshirt and heads to the elevator. A shower can wait until later; right now, she needs to stretch her legs and hopefully clear her head.

 

Even though she’s not on duty, the Spectre finds it hard to break her habit of heading to the command deck first, and when she arrives, Samantha’s there, still thumbing through comm traffic despite the late hour. Ever since the relays came back on line, there’ve been a never-ending series of requests for help cleaning up the chaos the Reapers left in the wake of their destruction. That’s where the _Normandy_ is off to now, delivering medical supplies to Palaven, but there’s not nearly enough time or enough resources to fix all of it, not for quite a while.

Sam’s clearly feeling the burden too, her fatigue evident in the weary smile she gives the commander. “I didn’t expect to see you up, Shepard,” she says. “I thought you weren’t on until this afternoon.”

“I’m not.” She hopes she doesn’t look as tired as she feels, though she suspects otherwise. “I just thought I’d check in, see how everyone’s doing.”

“It’s all quiet down here, Ma’am. Even Joker’s asleep in his chair. I just got a report from Dekuuna, though. They’re short on food and there’ve been fresh outbreaks of disease in the refugee camps.”

Ashara sighs. They had helped evacuate some of the elcor from the path of the Reaper invasion, but the ones left behind suffered greatly. “I’ll see what I can do.” Maybe Wrex or Hackett can spare some ships to help. It feels better to be dispatching relief supplies than deploying troops, but it’s still wearying. For the hundredth time, she curses the Catalyst. How in God’s name did that thing think that this tidal wave of blood was the solution to anything? “What’re you going to do when this is over, Sam?”, she asks, trying to get her mind off of that idiot and the choice it left her with. “When the state of emergency ends and the Alliance starts letting people muster out, are you going to stick around?”

“I don’t think so.” Sam looks slightly ashamed of herself and before Shepard can reassure her, the specialist tries to explain. “I mean, being a part of this crew has been the most incredible thing I’ve ever done in my life but I’m no soldier. I joined the Alliance because they paid for my education. I expected to spend my time in a lab, not on the bridge of a warship.”

“Well, you did a hell of a job, Sam. If not the Alliance, then what?”

Samantha shrugs. “The private sector, or at least what’s left of it, probably. A nice, safe job putting my degree to use in a way that doesn’t involve getting shot at seems like just what the doctor ordered.”

She pats the specialist on the back. “You’ve earned the break. No need to feel guilty about taking it.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” she beams. “It’s just hard to tell that to someone who’s accomplished everything that you have.”

Shepard nods, telling the specialist not to worry about it before she leaves. She appreciates the compliment, but even though everyone else wants to talk about her accomplishments, Ashara would rather not think about them right now.

 

Down in the gun battery, the commander is unsurprised to find Garrus awake as well. “Calibrating?”, she asks with a laugh.

“Hey, you never know,” the turian offers. “You might’ve missed a Reaper or two and it never hurts to be prepared.” He pauses for a moment and when she gives him a skeptical look, he changes his tune. “All right, it’s probably unnecessary, but it helps me to stay focused.”

The commander raises an eyebrow. “What’s distracting you? Thought of a certain quarian, perhaps?”

Garrus shakes his head. “Sadly, we’ve barely had time for much of that kind of distraction. Between the repairs to the _Normandy_ and you coming back from the dead again, we’ve been pretty busy these last few weeks.”

“As long as we’re talking about my resurrection,” she says playfully, “I heard you gave me up for dead.”

If turians could turn red, she’s pretty sure Garrus would be doing just that, and he buries his face back in the targeting equipment. “Did Liara rat me out?”

“Nope.”

“Ashley? James?” Shepard doesn’t react to either of the names. “Tali?” She smirks. “Really?”, he asks incredulously. “My own girlfriend?”

“Oh, don’t be too hard on her. You know she can’t keep a secret.”

“True enough. I guess I just couldn’t believe you could really cheat death again.”   He looks up from the gun battery, apparently done with whatever he was working on. “Besides, it would’ve been a hell of a way to go out, blowing up the Reapers. Now that would’ve been one for the histories.”

“It would’ve.” She takes a deep breath. “You know I almost didn’t make it.”

“That’s what Miranda said. You took a whole hell of a lot of punishment. Reaper canons, exploding space stations… Even Wrex was impressed.”

“It wasn’t just the injuries. I was…” She runs a hand through her hair. “I was so tired. Everyone had expected me to fix everything for so long.”

“You expected it of yourself too.”

“I did. But either way, it wore me down, and when the Crucible finally fired and it was done, I just wanted to sleep. It wasn’t the same as wanting to die, but I still almost couldn’t find the strength to wake up again.”

“You did though.”

She nods. “For Liara. I put her through so much already. I couldn’t leave her just because I had a few cuts and bruises.”

“A few cuts and bruises?” Garrus laughs. “Well, whatever you want to call them, I’m just glad you made it. I mean, otherwise Liara probably would’ve become a recluse and I’d have ended up having to give the speech every Shepard Day?”

She raises her eyebrows incredulously. “Shepard Day?”

“You know it’s coming. Statues, fireworks, Shepard-shaped pastries. And now you get to stick around and enjoy all of that.”

The commander can’t help but join in on the laughter. “You’re probably right. Still, I think I made the right choice.”

“Wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on the, ah, victory celebrations?” he teases her.

“Something like that. Good to talk to you, Garrus, and you and Tali,” she adds as she turns to go, “Make sure that you find the time to do some celebrating of your own. We all have to remember that whatever it cost, we’re still alive.”

 

It’s nearing the start of the morning shift when Shepard finally makes it back to her cabin and when she undresses and crawls back under the covers, she finds Liara already half awake. “Ashara,” the asari murmurs sleepily to her bondmate, “Where were you?”

She pulls her lover into her arms. “I couldn’t sleep. I was just making the rounds, checking on the crew.”

Liara pulls herself together at the mention of Ashara’s insomnia. “More bad dreams, love?”

“Yeah.” Shepard shakes her head. “Virmire this time. Kaidan’s death.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You seemed so peaceful and I didn’t want to disturb you. Besides,” she adds, kissing the top of Liara’s head, “You do enough for me already.”

Liara returns the kiss, planting hers on the Spectre’s sternum before nuzzling up against her breasts. “You are sweet, Ashara, but I want to help you with this.” For a second, Shepard can see the intensity of the pain behind the asari’s lovely blue eyes and it hurts a little knowing that she was responsible for it, however inadvertently. “When I wake up and you’re not there, there’s a moment sometimes when I forget that you aren’t…”

“I wasn’t thinking.” She brushes away the beginnings of a tear from Liara’s eye. “It should be over. I promised you a new life with me, but I’m still carrying too much of the old one with me and I’m sorry about that. I’ll try to do better.”

Liara tilts her head up and kisses the commander, her tongue sliding briefly past her lips. “Do not be too hard on yourself. It will take time,” she reassures her bondmate. “And rest. The war may be over but you’re still pushing yourself hard, getting this ship back to work so soon after you got out of the hospital.”

“I have to,” she tells her lover. “There’s so many people out there with bigger problems than bad dreams. I can’t just leave them to fend for themselves.”

Liara smiles a little bit. “I know that. Whatever life you chose, Shepard, you will always remain a hero. But though that may come with a cost, I will always be there to help you pay it. That is my choice and you do not need to feel guilty about it.”


	12. A Fresh Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set right after chapter 1 of Where They Travelled.

“Well, here we are,” Ashara says, her voice pensive. “Just the two of us.”

The asari leans her head on her new wife’s shoulder, watching as the _Normandy_ disappears into the darkening Thessian sky. The last of their things have been unloaded, the crew are gone, and though it’s not the first time the two of them have been alone together, this is different. As blissful as the few weeks they spent in Liara’s safe house after the war ended were, that was a vacation. This time, it’s permanent. Ashara’s retired as a Spectre and left the Alliance that’s been the backbone of her life ever since the _SSV Perseus_ rescued her from Mindoir all those years ago.

Mindoir. That’s the only other place she lived where there was grass underneath her feet, and as the earthy smell of the warm Thessian air fills her nose, the human feels the memories of the colony where she grew up stir in her mind.

“Are you all right?”, Liara asks, noticing her distraction.

"Fine,” she says reflexively, before taking a breath and remembering that she doesn’t have to pretend with Liara. “Actually, I guess I’m feeling a little bit weird,” she confesses. “Can you give me a few minutes? I just need to clear my head.”

Her wife kisses her cheek. “Of course. Goddess knows we have enough boxes for me to go through. Take as much time as you need.”

"I won’t be too long,” she promises.

The asari walks off towards their new house, and Shepard looks out at the fields that surround it. In the patterns of the plants, the former farm girl can still see hints that these were once well-maintained gardens, but it’s clearly been many a long year since anyone’s tended to them. Whatever their condition, she’s glad for all the land. Though the memories aren’t always easy to recall, she liked Mindoir.

Not that, as a restive teenager, she hadn’t dreamed of getting off of the colony. Ashara had considered joining the Alliance when she grew up, but at the time, it was the chance to see the galaxy more than the military life that appealed to her. A merchant ship would have served just as well. There were so many stars to visit, and her home was just so damn provincial, a quiet little farming world that seemed to move at a glacial pace. She certainly hadn’t been wrong about finding adventure in space, she reflected, but the way that she got there she wouldn’t have wished on anyone.

In the first few months after the batarian attack, that horrible day had dominated her thoughts of her old home, but as time passed, it had stopped blotting out everything else quite so thoroughly. Even though they hadn’t always been easy to remember, thinking about the good times growing up had helped her through the early years in basic and her first deployments. And there had been good times, many of them spent in fields like this one…

 

_"Sarah Jessup.”_

_Emily looks at Ashara as if she’s lost her mind. “Sarah Jessup?”, she repeats incredulously. “I’m pretty sure she’s a lot more interested in boys than girls.”_

_"Well, I didn’t exactly get to chose my first crush,” she protests. “Look at that curly strawberry hair. What could I do?”_

_"Plus she was the first girl in our class to develop tits,” Emily teases her. She’s not the jealous type, which is just one of the many things Ashara likes about her. It’s not that she wants to be with someone else, but it’s nice to be able to talk freely about this stuff ._

_"There was that,” the green-eyed girl admits. “Anyway, after she’d made out with half the basketball team, I kind of got the idea that she might be straight. Broke my innocent young heart.”_

_"As opposed to now, when you’re a worldly and jaded 15-year-old?”_

_Ashara grins at the pretty brunette lying next to her in the shade of the tree. It’s too hot to do much other than laze around, but right now, she can’t say she minds. “Okay, maybe not that jaded. So what about you?”, she inquires. “Who was the first girl you liked?”_

_Emily leans over and kisses her on the nose. “You.”_

_"Me?”, Ashara asks incredulously, swatting a fly buzzing too close to her head. She has excellent reflexes and the insect crashes to the ground. “I mean, I know I’m the first one you’ve dated, but really, you were never interested in any other girls?”_

_"Nah. I was too busy trying to figure out why I wasn’t interested in the boys my mom kept trying to introduce me to. Then you started sitting next to me in algebra and it all made sense.”_

_"It certainly wasn’t math you were thinking about in that class,” Ashara agrees, rolling over to kiss the brunette. Skinny arms wrap around her back and she brushes back Emily’s long hair so she can run her tongue along her neck. She’s made it most of the way to her girlfriend’s ear when she feels slim fingers start working their way under her loose blue shirt and up towards the swell of her breasts. Even though Emily’s touch is sending bolts of desire through her body, she reluctantly halts her. “Are you sure, Em?”, she asks. “I thought we were going slow.”_

_"Don’t worry, Ashara,” the girl laughs, palming her breast, “I already told you: you’re the only girl for me.”_

 

Shepard sighs at the memory of her first girlfriend. Those had been good times. Because of Emily of course, but with the distance of years, Ashara can see that what she’d felt had a lot to do with the person she’d been when she’d felt it. She’d been so innocent back then, and everything had been so new to her. Lying under a tree, making out with her girl, she’d been able to imagine that they’d be together forever, that this was meant to be.

She’d never felt that way again until she met the asari who was now her wife. She’d dated other women after the batarian attack and even had a few relationships that lasted long enough for her to think she might be in love. But she’d never felt that same swelling in her heart, that head-over-heels belief that this was the woman she was going to spend her life with, until Liara. The difference is, she’s not a naïve teenager anymore. She can distinguish between a teenage infatuation and the real thing, and she doesn’t just believe that Liara’s the one for her; she knows.

 

Liara sets down another box of video equipment in her new office. Fortunately, though spacious, the house isn’t so big that carrying things around it is a real bother, which is exactly why Benezia and her growing throng of acolytes had abandoned it when Liara was just a baby. The larger estate where the information broker grew up is gone now, obliterated by the Reapers, and while she and Shepard have the credits to rebuild, this place will do just fine. A hundred rooms and a host of staff isn’t what either of them wants.

The information broker opens up a desk drawer to put away some of her data pads, but she pauses at what she sees when she does. Lying there is a golden picture frame, and inside it rests a snapshot of Benezia and Aethyta standing together, arm in arm, a gorgeous waterfall behind them. Her mother is wearing a low-cut yellow sun dress, her father a red tank-top and slacks, and from the genuine smiles on their faces, Liara can tell these were truly happier times for the two of them.

She’s surprised to see the picture. Her mother hadn’t kept any reminders of her former bondmate where Liara could see them. The archeologist hadn’t even known her name until a few years ago. No one would talk about Aethyta to Liara, not her mother and not her acolytes, no matter how much she’d wanted to know more…

_"Archeology, little wing?” Skepticism is written all over her mother’s beautiful face, along with a measure of disappointment. “It is a fine hobby for a bright girl like you, but I thought we had agreed that you would pursue something more forward-looking at university.”_

_"We didn’t agree,” Liara protests. “You told me what you wanted me to do, and expected that I would just fall into line.”_

_"Liara,” Benezia tells her, “I only want what’s best for you.” Her voice is filled with that wise sufferance that when she was little, the young maiden had found comforting but right now is just annoying her. “These are pivotal times approaching, for the asari and for the galaxy, and I want you by my side, helping to guide our people into a brighter future, not losing yourself in the dusty past.”_

_"But that’s not what I want,” she protests, getting steadily angrier in that way that only an adolescent can get with their parent. “Why must you always assume that I don’t know what’s best for myself?”_

_"Because I’m worried about you.” Benezia reaches out affectionately, trying to put her arm around her daughter, but the younger asari pulls away. “You have so few friends and archeology is such a solitary profession. Most asari your age have dated at least a little but it seems that all you want is to bury your nose in one book after another. There is value in that, but not all that you need to know can be found between their pages.”_

_Benezia’s words hit too close to home, bringing up feelings that Liara’s tried to keep suppressed. “Sage advice from the wise matriarch,” the normally shy girl snaps. “I suppose you think that I should be more like you. That I should go and find a nice asari to fall in love with, and we can have a daughter, and then one day, she can leave me and never, ever see our child.”_

_"That is not what I said,” Benezia protests, but Liara’s too upset to notice the obvious hurt in her mother’s voice._

_"Do you have any idea what it’s like?”, she asks angrily. “To wonder what’s wrong with you that your own father doesn’t want to see you? Or speculate about what terrible thing she might have done to be exiled from your life? Exactly what kind of asari did you bond with, mother?”_

 

That summer afternoon had been one of the only times she’d seen Benezia cry. It had only been a few tears, but coming from the normally regal matriarch, it was still enough to make Liara regret what she’d said. But even though she’d apologized and they’d pretended that all was well, the truth was that their relationship had never fully recovered. Neither of them could be what the other one wanted. Liara couldn’t be the politician her mother had tried to raise, and Benezia had never been able to open up to her, to treat her as a full adult. She’d never let Liara in on her plans with regard to Saren, and she hadn’t told her about her father either, instead burying the truth about Aethyta out of hurt and embarrassment at the other matriarch’s antics.

Benezia hadn’t stopped caring about her former bondmate though. Her tears had been proof of that, and so too was this picture, kept in her office away from where her daughter might find it but still close at hand.

Liara brushes the dust off of the glass and sets it on the desk, just as, behind, her, she hears the sound of footsteps. Loving arms encircle her and she feels Ashara’s lips press against the back of her crest.

"Are you feeling better?”, the information broker asks.

"Yeah. It was just, being out there, in the garden, it reminded me of Mindoir. Summer days, and all that. They were good memories,” she explains, “But sometimes those can be the toughest.” She sighs, pulling her arms tighter around her wife. “I wish I wasn’t still carrying so much baggage. We’re supposed to be starting a new life and here I am, still half stuck in my old ones.”

"You’ve come a long way since the Citadel,” the asari reassures her, turning in her arms so that she can give her wife a soft kiss. “But there is a lot you have to work through. Be patient with yourself.”

"That’s not always my strong suit,” Ashara admits. “But I’ll try.” She pauses, stroking the side of her bondmate’s face as an inspiration strikes her. “You what I think might help? Planting a garden. Maybe some tomatoes, or strawberries, or whatever is good from around here. I just like making things grow and its been too long since I had the chance to do that.”

Liara smiles admiringly at Ashara. Her bondmate has so many interests, while she’s always been someone who focused on a few specialties to the exclusion of everything else. It probably helps to explain why the commander is go good at getting along with a range of people. “Is there anything you are not skilled at?”, she jokes.

Shepard raises an eyebrow. “I did just mention patience, didn’t I? Plus there’s dancing, and at least according to you, driving the Mako.” That last one gets a grin from her wife, and as she laughs against the former Spectre’s shoulder, Ashara notices the photo on the desk. “What’s this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen this picture before.”

"Neither had I until tonight. It must have been my mother’s. I imagine it was missed when she moved out.” There’s a sadness in her eyes. “It reminded me of a fight we had, many years ago.”

"A fight? And here I thought you were a goody two-shoes as a kid.” Liara looks puzzled and Shepard shakes her head. “I don’t really understand the expression either. It just means you did what you were told.”

"Usually I did,” she agrees, “But when it came to my career, Benezia did not approve of my choices. She wanted another politician, not a scientist.”

"Well, I know she’d be impressed with what you’ve accomplished,” Ashara reassures her wife. “I certainly am.” She gives Liara another kiss, this one along the side of her crest, and she feels the asari arch into her arms.

"Perhaps this would be a good time for you to remind me of another of your many skills,” Liara says mischievously, her mood improving as her fingers make their way down towards the curve of Ashara’s breasts. No one is better than her bondmate at making her forget her cares, and right now, she wants the meld, to give and receive comfort and pleasure with the woman she loves.

"What about all the boxes?”, the human asks. “It seems like there’s still plenty to unpack.”

"They will still be there in the morning. Whereas I have been informed by Lt. Vega that it is important to break in a new bed as soon as possible.”

Shepard laughs at the sentiment, and as she leads her wife towards their bedroom, she concludes that though she may have plenty of old memories to deal with, right now, she’d rather make some new ones.


	13. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set right before chapter 5 of What Was Saved. In retrospect, I feel like I rushed through some of the early parts of 4th Life a bit, wanting to get to the later story, so I’ve been trying to correct that here. Plus, it gave me the chance to write some more of “Ashara Shepard: The Early Years,” which I enjoy doing.

Pale green eyes flutter open and as the harsh light of the hospital room fills them, Ashara Shepard lets out a groan. Her ribs ache, her burnt leg is still tender, and her head feels like a krogan’s been playing volleyball with it but she’s awake and as soon as someone notices, it’s pandemonium. Several people in white coats are rushing into the room, all of them talking at once, and for the first few seconds, she’s too groggy to figure out what they’re saying.

Soon enough though, things comes into focus. A familiar voice snaps, “Quiet,” and as the rest of the doctors and nurses part for the speaker, her identity becomes evident. Miranda Lawson may look a bit short on sleep and her trademark cat suit has been replaced with an Alliance uniform and a doctor’s white coat, but whatever her clothes, she’s a welcome sight amidst the chaos.

"Shepard,” the operative begins, her smile considerably more enthusiastic than the Spectre is used to seeing from her friend, “It’s good to see you awake. How do you feel?”

"Shitty,” she chokes out. Her throat feels like its been scrapped raw and one of the nurses hands her a cup of water that she eagerly gulps down. “I’ll live.”

"Evidently,” Miranda laughs. “It seems the galaxy can’t get rid of you, commander, no matter how hard it tries.”

Shepard tries to laugh too, but stops when a fresh wave of pain hits her. Every word is taking a fresh toll on the Spectre, but there are things she has to know. “Heard… _Normandy_ coming. Is Liara there?” The last time she saw her bondmate, the asari was being evacuated onto the ship, injured during their last push to the beam, and though Ashara’s been operating under the assumption she was safe there, she now realizes that that’s not necessarily the case.

Miranda’s smile doesn’t break though, her words soothing the anxiety the commander feels. “She is. She’s fine. The whole crew is.” She pauses, realizing Shepard might not know why her ship isn’t here already, and adds, “I don’t know if you realize this, but there’s been some damage to the Mass Relays. They’ve been repaired though, and if all goes well, the _Normandy_ can jump back to Earth very soon.”

The operative takes a moment to check Shepard’s vitals on the monitors. “I’m more worried about you. You took quite a beating, commander and when you’re up to it, I’d like to know how that happened.”

 

_"What’s the last thing you remember, Miss Shepard?”_

_The teenage girl blinks, searching her mind for an answer. It’s all a jumble right now, images of fire and feelings of dread running together, but at last she’s able to pick out the memory. “There was a batarian,” she tells the doctor. “I… I killed him.” She can still see the bloody ruin a half dozen gun shots had made of his head. A part of her was disgusted by the sight. But it was only a part, and as the rest of that terrible day rushes back, she can’t bring herself to care. “Is there anyone else left?”, she asks hopefully, though another part, grown old too soon, doubts it._

_The doctor is a solidly-built older man with dark skin and short hair graying around the temples, and when he replies, his voice is filled with the sorrow of someone who’s had to deliver this kind of news far too many times. “I’m afraid not,” he tells her, “Most of the other colonists were killed and the ones who weren’t, the batarians took.”_

_“My family…”, she asks, not sure which answer she wants to hear. She’s heard stories about the way the batarians treat their prisoners._

_“Your house was caught in the first bombardment. They were all killed. I’m so sorry.”_

_She’d suspected as much when she saw the flames; it was why she’d run towards Emily’s house instead, hoping to find someone to save. But that had been a foolish dream. There was nothing she could have done for any of the people she’d loved._

_As Ashara blinks back her grief, she sees the doctor coming to her bedside, the older man resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, and a part of her feels like she should cry. The tears don’t come. It’s too much. She could cry for her mother, or her father, or her sisters, or Emily, but not for all of them. She’s just numb now._

_Numb and angry. The girls shakes her head, pushing off the doctor’s hand. “How did this happen?”, she demands. “Wasn’t the Alliance supposed to protect us?”_

_“We were,” the man agrees, but though she can see the deep regret in his eyes, that doesn’t do anything for her right now._

 

“Shepard?” Miranda seems concerned and the commander realizes she’s been drifting while her friend runs scans on her brain.

Ashara manages a weak laugh. Her throat is starting to feel better, but much of the rest of her body still hurts. They told her she’s slept for weeks but she feels like it wasn’t nearly enough. “Sorry. It’s just not the first time I’ve woken up like this.”

“Well, hopefully it will be the last,” Miranda tells her. “It’s finished. The Crucible worked. The Reapers are all dead: the ships, the troops, all of them gone. You did it.”

She nods. She should be happier at the news, but it’s not really a surprise. “I figured as much, since we’re still here.”

“That would be logical,” Miranda agrees. “Do you remember firing it? Or any of the rest of what took place on the Citadel? Our scientists are still trying to make sense of it all.”

Make sense of it? What she remembers are a child and a choice, neither of which made a whole lot of sense. A moment when she held the future of the galaxy in her bloody hands with no way to know if she was doing the right thing. Just the thought of it makes the commander tired, and she realizes she has no strength to explain that moment to anyone else. Hell, she can’t even explain it to herself, and so she settles for saying, “Activating the Crucible. Waking up in a pile of rubble. Calling for help. And then this.”

The operative brushes some of the stray strands of Shepard’s matted hair out of her face. “Don’t worry about it. For now, I think saving the galaxy again is good enough. I’m sure the Alliance will have more questions but I’ll do my best to hold them off. There’s no rush; it’s over now.”

The commander lets herself slide back onto the pillows, a small smile to the operative the best she can manage through her fatigue. The Reaper War may be over, but she knows from bitter experience that it will be a long time before the same can be said for her.

 

_The person sitting across the desk from Ashara isn’t the grizzled sergeant who’d first greeted her when she walked into the Alliance recruiting office a week ago. He’s been replaced with a handsome blonde woman perhaps 10 years his junior who introduces herself as Major Franklin._

_“Miss Shepard,” she begins, closing the file that sits in front of her, “I’ve asked you here today so that we can talk about the results of your recruit assessment tests. You scored in the 95 th percentile or higher on virtually all of our measures of both physical fitness and strategic thinking. What’s more, your biotic aptitude score is as high as I’ve ever seen in a recruit.” She pushes the file to one side. “All in all, a very impressive set of qualifications.”_

_Ashara allows herself a small swell of pride at that. Her once-lanky frame has filled out over the last two years, and ever since she decided that she wanted to join the Alliance, she’s been training herself, working out, studying military history and tactics, and even learning to shoot at a firing range. After all, it isn’t like she has much in the way of friends left to occupy her time. “Thank you, ma’am. What was it that you wanted to ask me about?”_

_“On the basis of your test scores, you’re under consideration to enter our fast-track officer training program,” Major Franklin explains, “But before I make a final decision about your suitability, I wanted us to have a little chat. This is a job where you would have other people’s lives in your hands, and it’s important that you not only have the right physical and mental skills, but also that you’re in the right frame of mind to handle that.”_

_“Go ahead. Ask anything you want.” Ashara hopes she sounds confident, but inside, she’s feeling trepidation. Once up a time, in another life, talking about her feelings hadn’t bothered her. The kid she used to be was friendly and open, an extrovert who made friends easily. That was then._

_Now, when her dreams are about fire, and blood, and the burnt bodies of her family, she’s not so keen on sharing. The shrink they had her meet with for a year after the batarian attack told Ashara that she was extraordinarily resilient, that most people would’ve been nearly catatonic after what she’d been through. It doesn’t feel that way sometimes though. Even since that day, she’s felt adrift, without a purpose, and focusing on joining the Alliance is the only thing that’s helped her through those feelings sometimes._

_“Let’s start with this question,” the major tells her, “Why do you want to become an Alliance marine? I saw in your files that it was one of our ships that rescued you from Mindoir, and that the Alliance has taken care of you since then. Gratitude is good and well but this is a hard life you’re choosing. It has to be about more than repaying a debt you think you owe.”_

_“It is,” the girls insists. “I mean, I appreciate what the crew of the Perseus did for me, but that’s not why I’m here.”_

_“Then what is it?”, Franklin asks, her tone turning harsher, giving Ashara a glimpse of the hardened marine behind the cool recruiting officer. “Is it revenge? Are you hoping the Alliance will give you the chance to slaughter a few of the four-eyed bastards who stole your family?”_

_Ashara takes a deep breath, trying not to rise to the bait. “I’d be lying if I said a part of me didn’t want to rip every last one the SOBs apart,” she admits. “Who wouldn’t feel that way? But revenge won’t fix anything. On Mindoir, during the attack, I killed a batarian who was trying to take me. I can do again that if there’s a good reason, but killing by itself isn’t the answer to anything. I’m here because someone should’ve protected us on Mindoir. I’m not blaming anyone for what happened, but somebody has to be there to stand between good people and the bad things out there in the galaxy. I’d like to be one of the ones who is.”_

_“You can’t save everyone,” the major reminds her._

_Her reply is emphatic. “I can do my best.”_

_For the first time, Major Franklin cracks a smile. “I think you’re going to make a fine officer, Ashara.”_

_The teenage girl pauses. Ashara was a farmer’s daughter, someone with a family, and friends, and a home. She doesn’t have those things anymore and somehow, using that name makes her feel like she’s pretending that she still does. Taking the major’s outstretched hand and shaking it, she tells her, “Thank you, and I won’t let you down. But if you don’t mind, I’d rather just go by Shepard.”_

 

“Shepard?”

The Spectre shakes her head. “Sorry, Miranda, I must have dozed off again.”

“Don’t worry,” the operative replies kindly. “It’s to be expected. In truth, I wouldn’t have woken you at all, but I thought you’d want to know that the _Normandy_ has docked.”

Liara, she thinks immediately. Liara is here. And Ashley, and Garrus, and Tali, and all the rest of her crew, her friends. In spite of the pain in her body and the doubts in her mind, Shepard smiles. She might be back in the hospital with a fresh helping of grief to face, but at least this time, she isn’t alone.


End file.
